


Copyright N? 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSJT. 


SWANHILDE 


AND OTHER FAIRY TALES 


ADAPTED FROM THE GERMAN 


BY 

CARRIE NORRIS HORWITZ 

if 


\\ *Y\~ 'S' , 



D LOTHROP COMPANY 


WASHINGTON STREET OPPOSITE BROMFIELD 




Copyright, 1889, 

BY 

D. Lothrop Company. 





- ) t,. 


r 

£ 


THIS VOLUME 

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
TO 

CATHERINE MARY LOWNDES 
of Talbot County 
Maryland 





CONTENTS. 


Page. 


SWANHILDE 7 

THE SHEPHERD BOY AND THE KING’S 

DAUGHTER 55 

THE CARAVAN XNV W . 81 

I. THE CALIPH STORW . . . A* 87 

II. THE HAUNTED SHIP .... 107 

III. THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND . 128 

IV. fatme’s rescue 158 

V. THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE . 191 

VI. THE STRANGER’S STORY . . . 226 


THE BOY AND THE TREASURES OF THE 

OLD WITCH 239 

THE PRINCESS ON THE GLASS MOUNT- 
AIN 255 

A STORY OF TWO BROTHERS ... 283 













I. 

THE SEVEN SWABIANS. 

Near the city of Zwickau, in Southern Ger- 
many, lies the well-known swan-field — so 
called because of the large swannery situated 
within it. On the gentle slope of a hill that 
overlooked this little lake, and amidst the high 
rocks, dwelt a pious hermit named Benno. He 
had taken this name from that of the celebrated 
bishop of Misnia. 

Nobody could say who Benno really was or 
whence he came. He had come there, some years 
before, a strong, robust pilgrim and settled down 
in the neighborhood of the swannery. Here he 
erected with his own hands a comfortable her- 
mitage, and laid out a little garden, in which he 
planted foreign fruit-trees and fine grape-vines. 
He raised, also, sweet melons, which at that time 
were held as a great delicacy. With these pro- 
7 



.ozzno 


8 


THE SEVEN SWABIANS. 


ducts of his garden he entertained all who came 
to see him. 

His great hospitality, as well as his exceeding 
good humor, made him beloved by all. Those 
who dwelt in his neighbor- 
hood went to him in all 
their troubles, great or small, 
to receive comfort and coun- 
sel, which he always gave 
them gladly. 

So the years went by until 
the time when the Marquis 
Frederick revolted against the Emperor Albrecht 
I., and the Swabian army laid waste the 
eastern coast of Germany. Already age had 
stripped the venerable Benno’s head of its nat- 
ural covering; what hair yet remained upon it, 
was quite white ; he stooped ; he leaned heavily 
upon his cane, and had no longer in the spring 
strength to weed and dig his garden. He 
therefore wished to procure an assistant and 
companion ; but it was hard for him to find one 
who suited his fancy, for age had made him mis- 
trustful and whimsical. An unexpected event 
gratified his wish, and found him a helpmate on 
whom he could lean, as on a staff. 

The inhabitants of Misnia had, by fraud, and 
in a great battle, completely vanquished the Swa- 
bians and slaughtered them by hundreds. A 



THE SEVEN SWABIANS. 


9 


panic seized the Swabian army; the call was 
given, “Let those who can, save themselves.” 
Every one, after the battle, who had two feet 
left, thanked God for his preservation, and made 
the best possible use of these members to escape 
from death. Many fled into the adjoining woods, 
and the remainder concealed themselves in the 
meadows. 


( 



Seven Swabians, the remnant of one faithful 
company of spearmen, swore to abide faithful to 
each other, never to be divided, but in unity to 
live or die. They succeeded, luckily, in escaping 
from their pursuers. They were all strong young 
men whom no foot soldiers could have out-run. 
At last, however, they were completely fagged 
out by their long-continued flight. As the night 
came on they consulted together as to where 
they were most likely to find some place of shel- 


10 


THE SEVEN SWABIANS. 


ter and concealment. They did not consider 
themselves secure in the open fields ; they there- 
fore determined to go to a village, close at hand, 
and there to carefully conceal themselves ; for 
they rightly conjectured that the Misnian troops 
had chosen that village for their encampment. 
The seven heroes were, therefore, very cautious, 
and hid themselves in the immense, unused oven 
of the village inn. 

Now an oven is, indeed, not the most comfort- 
able of beds ; before their great defeat, they 
would certainly not have been content with such 
quarters for the night ; but by this time they were 
ready to make the best of a necessity. Their 
extreme fatigue soon brought sleep and rest to 
their weary limbs and troubled minds. The un- 
fortunate companions slept as soundly as if they 
were on the most luxurious beds, with naught 
to trouble or disturb them. 

But, alas, before the seven sleepers awoke, 
they had already been discovered by a peasant 
woman. 

Already the news of the victory had spread 
throughout the land ; in her great joy at the re- 
sult of the battle, this woman had mixed a large 
cake, which she intended to bake early in the 
morning. So when she came to the oven and 
observed the soldiers quartered there, she per- 
ceived, at once, by their tattered coats, that 


THE SEVEN SWABIANS. 


11 


these strange guests were fugitives from the van- 
quished army. 

With all haste she ran to the village, and told 
the news to her neighbors. At once, a great 
troop of peasant women gathered together, armed 
with spits and oven forks, to besiege the oven 
and its contents. They first held a council, as 
to whether the enemy should be attacked with 



their weapons, or by fire ; for they were all 
determined that the seven Swabians should die. 
After some debate, they decided to use their 
weapons. 

The strange weapons of attack, in the hands 
of the village women, instilled in them the spirit 
of revenge. The whole crowd rushed in with 
violence upon the heroes’ hiding-place ; and, 
heedless of the laws and rights of hospitality, 
the defenseless fugitives were awakened from 


12 


THE SEVEN SWABIANS. 


their refreshing sleep by heavy blows and thrusts 
from the oven forks. By this unfriendly morn- 
ing greeting, they realized their great danger, and 
poured forth their expostulations and entreaties, 
from the oven, praying most earnestly for their 
lives. But the inflexible women would not hear 
of mercy, and stabbed and beat the poor prison- 
ers, helpless and imprisoned in the oven, until 
one of them lay still in death, and his unhappy 
companions were motionless in their curious 
dungeon. 

Then the women secured the stove door on 
the outside, and marched triumphantly back to 
their homes. 

Six of the soldiers had really, after this oven 
skirmish, remained shut up, but the seventh one, 
who was more ingenious and determined than 
the others, contrived to escape from their fate. 

Searching for some way of escape he took his 
flight up the chimney, climbed to the roof, un- 
perceived, thence slid down, and was free. With 
all the strength he possessed, he ran to the near- 
est woods, and wandered about, in continual fear 
of pursuit and death, until the sun had set. At 
last, from fatigue and hunger, he sank down 
under a forest oak ; and when, after a short time, 
the cool evening breezes had refreshed him, and 
in a measure revived his strength, he raised his 
eyes, and saw, at a little distance from him, a 


THE SEVEN SWABIANS. 


13 


devout hermit, who, before a ruined wooden cross, 
was saying his prayers. This pious sight gave 
him courage; with humble reverence he ap- 
proached the worthy man, knelt down behind him, 
and when the monk had finished his devotions, 
he extended to the stranger his blessing. When, 
however, he saw the pale and disfigured face, 
and tattered clothes, the monk concluded that 
he was a shield-bearer of the vanquished army, 
and entered into conversation with him. The 
honest Swabian related to him his sad story with 
unaffected candor, without concealing his great 
fear of death, for he had always thought of the 
destroying angel with extreme terror. 

The good-natured hermit grieved for the inno- 
cent Swabian blood which had been shed, and he 
offered the stranger shelter and protection in his 
dwelling. To the frightened fugitive, the en- 
trance to the gloomy grotto appeared like a 
bomb-proof. Not only the rocky vaults, but 
even the chapel, the larder, and the hermit’s 
cellar, which was indeed a natural cave, all 
appeared in his eyes, in the shape of a large 
oven ; one cold shiver after another crept over 
him. 

But the kind old man soon encouraged him. 
He brought the poor fugitive water to wash his 
feet, set before him good bread and some garden 
fruit, for his evening meal, moistened with wine 


14 


THE SEVEN SWABIANS. 


the dry tongue, which clave to the roof of his 
mouth, and prepared for him a couch of soft 
moss. 

Friedbert, for that was our Swabian’s name, 
slept soundly until the next morning, when he 
was awakened by the pious Benno for prayers. 
By the time breakfast was over, he had forgotten 
all his fear and grief, and could not find words 
enough to thank his kind host for all he had 
done for him. 



THE HERMIT ’S STORY. 


15 


II. 

"" THE HERMIT’S STORY. 

After three days of 
the hermit’s hospitality, 
it seemed to Friedbert, 
the Swabian, time to leave 
the hermitage ; and yet 
he longed with all his 
heart to remain in this 
secure and peaceful re- 
treat until the land was 
again quiet. Benno, on his part, found the 
worthy Swabian possessed of so much good 
sense, so faithful, and of such service to him in 
household duties, that he wished him to live 
there always. And so, the wishes of both agree- 
ing, it was determined that Friedbert should 
remain with the hermit. He accordingly changed 
his soldier’s dress for a monk’s habit, and acted 
as a lay-brother in the hermitage, to take care 
of his aged protector, to attend to the garden 
and cooking, and to minister to the wants of 
pilgrims. 

About the time of the solstice, when the spring 



1G 


THE HE EMIT ’S STOBY. 


yields to summer, Benno never failed to send 
his faithful servant, daily, to the swannery, to 
notice and bring him back word if any swans 
were to be seen on the pond, to observe their 
motions, and, particularly, to note the number 
together at one time. The old man was always 
much interested in the report. These accounts 
of the swans seemed to cheer him greatly ; but 
when, at the usual time, Friedbert brought back 
the news that no swans were to be seen on the 
pond, the aged man shook his head sadly, and 
remained for some days downcast and melan- 
choly. The faithful Swabian was much grieved, 
and still more surprised at this change in the 
old man ; he therefore visited the swannery 
constantly, that he might bring him better news. 

One day as Friedbert stood near the pond in the 
twilight, he saw some swans hover over the water. 
This he immediately reported to Benno, who, at 
the news, gave signs of the greatest joy. He had 
a far more sumptuous supper prepared than 
usual, and set wine upon the table. Both drank 
freely, and the good wine gave new strength and 
spirits to monk and soldier. The wortlry Benno 
threw off entirely his sad gravity, and became 
cheerful and talkative. ' 

He refilled his brother’s glass to the brim, and 
this done he spoke to him in the following 
words : — 


THE HERMIT'S STORY. 


17 


“ My son, you have now served me faithfully 
for three long years ; it is time, therefore, you 
should receive some pay. But first I will tell 
you the story of my life, and my adventures at 
the swan-pond, which ripplesvand dances before 
our eyes in the breezes and the moonlight like a 
silver sea. 

“ In my youth I was an impetuous, dauntless 
knight. My native land was Switzerland, and I 
was a descendant of the Earl of Kyburg. For a 
murder, which I rashly committed, I traveled to 
Rome, to be shriven by our holy father the Pope. 
He laid upon me as penance, the command that I 
should join a crusade to the Holy Land, and fight 
against the Saracens, with the strict injunction 
that I was never to return home, and that all my 
property was to be handed over to the church. 

“ I took passage on a Venetian ship, and left 
port in good spirits, for fighting was but pleasure 
to me. But a contrary wind took possession of 
our sails. The sea grew rough, our little ship 
became a plaything in the hands of the waves, 
and was dashed against a projecting rock near 
the island of Haxos with such force that she 
went to pieces. As I was a good swimmer, I 
managed to reach shore, where I was received 
kindly by the inhabitants. I then went to Quisa, 
to the palace of Prince Zeno, and was welcomed 
there under the assumed name of a French knight. 


18 


THE HERMIT'S STORY. 


There I saw the prince’s daughter, Helena, and 
soon forgot my vow to join the crusade. 

“ All my energy, all my powers, were centered 
on one thing, namely, to please the young prin- 
cess. My love for her grew stronger every hour. 
I showed her a thousand little attentions, and 
did all in my power to make the charming Helena 
return my love. 

“By careful inquiry 1 learned that on court 
days she always wore drapery and ornaments of 
the color of my helmet-plume and scarf. She 
loved songs and music, and also lively round 
dances. She, herself, danced most charmingly. 
I often joined her, for a short time, when she 
was walking alone by the river side, or when 
she strolled by the dim light of the soft blue 
evening sky in her flower garden. But her father, 
Prince Zeno, was positively opposed to my 
w r ooing, and, as I would not desist from pressing 
my suit, I was one day seized by his body-guard 
and dragged away. 

“Near the sea-coast on a high projecting rock, 
stood a strongly-built tower not more than a stone’s 
throw distant from the island, and only accessi- 
ble by means of a draw-bridge, which was always 
guarded by soldiers. 

“I was pushed into this dismal dungeon down 
a gigantic ladder ; which, as soon as my feet had 
reached the ground, was drawn up. 


. THE HEBMIT'S STOBY. 


19 


“Perfect darkness reigned in this death-like 
hole, and a damp, earthy closeness almost stupe- 
fied my senses. I soon perceived that I was in 
the jaws of death ; for, as I sought 
a place in which to lie down and 
die, I stumbled over some, human 
bones which lay scattered on the 
ground, and on a half-mouldered 
basket. In despair, I laid me 
down on the hard stones and cried 
unto Death that he would free 
me from this living grave. But 
he sent this time his brother, 

Sleep, who, for a time, made me 
forget my sorrow. 

“ When I awoke, I saw, to my 
amazement, a light shining in the midst of the 
darkness ; when I approached it I found it to 
be a burning lamp, fastened in a basket which 
seemed to have been let down from above by 
means of a rope. I examined the basket, and 
found in it all kinds of choice food and some 
bottles of wine, also an oil jug with which to 
feed the lamp. 

“ The light at once revealed to me all the hor- 
rors of this frightful dungeon, so that the satis- 
fying of my appetite was dearly paid for by the 
loathsome sights which, by the light of the lamp, 
met my eyes. I, however, gathered together 



20 


THE HERMIT'S STORY. 


some of the empty baskets which lay on the 
ground, and formed out of them a table and seat. 
I then fell to on the contents of the basket and 
made a hearty meal. 

“ After some days, so it seemed to me, for 
Time in that subterranean cage had leaden wings, 
I heard a noise above me ; the ladder with the num- 
berless steps came rolling down, and I saw a man 
descend on it whom I took for either a fellow- 
sufferer or an executioner. My joy was equal 
to my surprise when I recognized a friend of 
mine, the physician of Prince Zeno. He had 
pleaded so hard for me, that the prince had 
granted him my life, with the condition that 
I immediately left the island of Naxos for- 
ever. 

“ W e ascended quickly from the dungeon to 
the daylight, and when I took leave, with heart- 
felt thanks, of my rescuer, he imparted to me, 
as a great secret, the intelligence that Princess 
Helena was descended from a race of fairies and 
possessed the power to become, once every year, 
a swan ; ‘ Or/ said he, ‘ as she expresses it, to put 
on her swan disguise. She then flies to a far-off 
pond whose mysterious virtue preserves her 
beauty. 

“‘Now/ continued the physician, ‘would it 
grieve you much to travel to this far-off place 
and dwell near the wonderful pond, and there 


THE HERMIT'S STORY. 


21 


make to the beautiful Helena your confession of 
love, which she would hardly listen to in Naxos ? 
If this pleases you I will direct you how to find 
this pond. Therefore, pay great attention. Far 
off in the German Empire at the western end of 
the great chain of mountains, in the more level 
part of the mountainous district, the waters of 
some little streams meet and form a pond, which 
is called by the inhabitants of that region, the 
Swan Pond. 

“ ‘ Here Helena delights, with her companions, 
to fly and swim in the form of swans. It will 
not be difficult for you to change these wonder- 
ful swans into their natural forms, for their 
feather robes are fastened on by a feather crown 
on the head. If you stand on the shore in the 
early morning hours before the rays of the rising- 
sun have reached the water, or in the evening 
when the sun has just sunk in the horizon and 
his fading light yet reddens the heavens, mark 
well if any swans are to be seen. If it be that 
they are at that time leaving the water, or the 
bushes on the shore, you will soon perceive in a 
neighboring meadow, rich with flowers, a com- 
pany of beautiful young ladies walking up and 
down, laughing and talking together. Your sharp 
eyes will soon discover for you whether or not 
the charming Helena is among the group. If 
she be there tarry not, but go and take posses- 


22 


THE HE EMIT ’S STOBY. 


sion of the feathered robes which you will find 
on the shore. You will then have them in your 
power, for without their winged plumage they 
cannot fly away.’ 

“When the physician had finished speaking I 
was amazed at what he had said, and knew not 
whether to believe him or to think that he had 
told me a falsehood. His honest, straightfor- 
ward manner, however, convinced me that he had 
spoken the truth. 

“When I had thought in silence for some 
minutes, I answered him with full trust in all 
he had told me. ‘ Noble friend, conduct me at 
once to the ship. I will try the adventure you 
have proposed to me. I will, if needs be, cross 
the whole world, until I find the pond where 
the greatest wish I have on earth, may be 
realized.’ 

“Thereupon I took passage at once and sailed 
through the Hellespont to Constantinople. There 
I put on a pilgrim’s dress and traveled in com- 
pany with a real pilgrim, who was just returning 
from the Holy Land. At the first mountain I 
parted with my companion, and wandered about 
for a long time until I found the long-sought 
swannery. 

“Here, in its neighborhood, I built this hermit- 
age. It was soon visited by many good peo- 
ple, who, believing me to have just returned from 


THE HEBMIT'S story. 


23 


the Holy Land, sought from me the blessing and 
comfort of a holy man. 

“ Soon after I had settled down here I built 
that reed hut on the shore, and used at times to 
lie concealed there looking out over the water, 
to spy out in secret the arrival of the swans, 
for I was certain that the physician had told me 
the truth. 

“My watchfulness was at last rewarded. 
About the middle of the summer I saw swans 
swimming on the pond. Their forms seemed 
quite natural, but their loving, affectionate ways 
to each other seemed more like young maidens 
than swans. But I could never obtain a glimpse 
of the object I so longed to see. Three summers 
I watched in vain with impatient hope. 

“The fourth summer came. I watched dili- 
gently from my hiding-place, and one morning 
just at the first dawn of day I heard a flapping 
of wings above me. Soon after I saw wandering 
along the shore of the pond, a party of maidens, 
and, as the daylight increased, I saw distinctly 
among them the form of the beautiful Helena. 

“ My heart beat loudly within my breast. My 
joy and surprise overruled my better judgment 
and I quite forgot the instructions of the phy- 
sician. Instead of securing the feathered robes, 
and thus obtaining full power to detain the maid- 
ens, I raised my voice in the ecstasy of my de- 


24 


THE HERMIT’S STORY. 


light, and cried out loudly, 1 Helena of Naxos, 
do you not recognize your faithful knight whom 
love has driven here to dwell by this wonder- 
ful pond, in hopes 
of again meet- 
ing you ? ’ The 
maidens seemed 
greatly terrified at 
this unexpected 
call; they raised a 
great cry of alarm, 
rushed into the 
reeds, and soon 
after, re-appearing 
in the form of 
seven swans, flew high up in the air and dis- 
appeared. 

“I now lamented my foolish impetuosity; I 
rent my dress, tore out my hair and showed in 
many other insane ways my frantic grief, until 
my wild excitement lost itself in grim despair. 

“ I went sadly back to my lonely cloister, and 
there thought of nothing but of my sorrow and 
bitter regret. 

“ Many years now I have lived here without 
any news of Helena or her visits to the pond, 
for which I have so anxiously waited. All I can 
think is that the fairy of beauty was driven from 
the pond by my thoughtlessness. 


The <!Wa.ns 



THE HE EMIT’ 8 STOBY. 


25 


“ In time the maidens came again and again 
to the pond, and in that rested all my hope. I 
watched carefully and with pleasure their every 
movement ; but the noble Helena was never 
among them. Under this false hope, time has 
bent my back, and marked deep furrows on my 
brow. Even now the movements of the swans 
interest me as much as ever ; for they always 
remind me of the adventure of my youth, and of 
the happiest dream of my life. 

“ Yet I do not wish, Friedbert,” continued 
Benno to his attentive listener, “ that you, a ro- 
bust youth, should dream away your life in this 
desolate place. The short time that yet remains 
to me on earth, you may abide with me ; but 
when you have done for me the last service 
which earthly hands can do, and laid my bones 
in the grave which I myself many years ago 
hewed in the rocks, then you shall go out into 
the world, and by honesty and virtue, earn your 
bread by the sweat of your brow. But before 
you go, you may try your luck, and see if here, 
by this pond, you can win a swan-maiden for a 
faithful, loving bride.” 

The morning had already begun to dawn when 
the communicative old man finished his story 
and stretched himself out on his bed of dry 
leaves, and sought, at last, to take his night’s 
rest. 


26 


THE HEB MIT'S STOBY. 


But no sleep came to Friedbert’s eyes. He 
sat himself down before the hermit’s door, and 
watched the rising sun. In fancy, he saw a swan 
in every swallow that flew above him. 

After the night’s exertion, Father Benno laid 
down upon his bed; he fell asleep, and that 
night he died. 

He was buried by his faithful companion, amid 
great lamentations from all the good people of 
the neighborhood. They truly mourned from 
their hearts the loss of the venerable monk, and 
ever after regarded his grave as a sacred spot. 

All were clamorous to obtain some small relic 
of the hermit. Friedbert cut in small pieces 
the monk’s old cloak and hawthorn staff, to 
divide among them as keepsakes. 

In time the crowd dispersed. Friedbert, now 
owner of the hermitage, could indulge in his own 
thoughts without interruption. 

He watched, with great pleasure, the days 
becoming longer, the nights shorter, and mid- 
summer drawing near. He went diligently to 
the pond, from the time of the summer solstice, 
and in the morning and evening hours hid him- 
self in the reed hut. At last, one evening, he 
made the long-wished-for discovery. 


THE SWAN'S PLUMAGE. 


27 


III. 

THE STEALING OF THE SWANKS PLUMAGE. 

Three swans came fly- 
ing from the South with 
noisy flapping of their 
wings. Three times they 
circled round above the 
pond, as if to observe that 
all was safe ; then they 
plunged into the water, 
along, leaving deep silver 
ripples behind them in the clear tide at every 
stroke of their wings. They began to sport 
and play in the water like children, chasing 
each other round the pond in turn. When 
they had finished their games in the water, they 
swam to the shore, and disappeared in the high 
reeds. 

The watchful and eager Friedbert soon saw 
re-appearing from among the reeds three beautiful 
young maidens, clad in costly robes, ornamented 
with gold and silver. As they stood there for a 
minute, with their arms entwined around one 



and swam merrily 


28 


THE SWAN’S PLUMAGE . 


another, they formed the prettiest picture he had 
ever gazed upon. 

They wandered over to the neighboring flower 
meadows. They sprang merrily here and there, 
with joyful shouts of pleasure, picked the 
prettiest flower blossoms, laid themselves down 
in the soft grass, and wove sweet-smelling gar- 
lands and wreaths. 

Soft strains of music were wafted by the 
breezes to Friedbert in his concealment, and his 
spying eyes soon saw the fairy-like maidens, 
decked all over with garlands of fresh flowers, 
moving lightly to and fro in a merry dance. 

Although lost in admiration at this beautiful 
sight, yet Friedbert plucked up his courage at 
the right minute, and hastily left his hiding place. 

Unperceived, he slipped down through the 
bushes to the spot where the young maidens 
had laid their plumage. When he came in sight . 
of the feathered robes, his heart leaped for joy. 

With an eager hand the bold robber seized the 
handsomest of the swan robes, and hastened with 
his booty to the hermitage, full of impatient 
expectations as to what Fate had laid out as his 
destiny. As soon as he had hidden his treasure 
in an iron chest, he sat down on a rustic bench, 
just outside of the hermitage grotto, to continue 
his observations. 

The maidens at last tiring of dancing and 


THE SWAN'S PLUMAGE. 


29 


play, went, hand in hand, across the meadows, 
toward the pond. When they had disappeared 
in the reeds, there arose a cry of horror ; and, 
immediately, two swans flew out from the reeds 
in a frightened manner, and, soaring high up in 
the air, flew rapidly away. 

Friedbert soon heard a slight noise, as of a 
timid footstep in the sand ; its motions betrayed 
fear. When the cunning young hermit saw that 
he was being observed, he assumed a careless 
attitude, as if he saw and heard nothing. As he 
casually raised his eyes, there stood before him 
the charming, captured maiden, with an ex- 
pression of deep distress upon her countenance. 
She opened her mouth with anxious, entreating 
gestures, and the young hermit heard a sweet, 
melodious voice, which was pleasant to his ears ; 
but not one word that the maiden uttered could 
he understand ; for the language in which she 
spoke was strange to him. He, however, easily 
guessed the purport of her words to be an earn- 
est supplication for the restoration of the stolen 
swan-robe. 

The roguish hermit purposely misunderstood 
her gestures, and only endeavored to make her 
understand that she had nothing to fear in that 
sacred hermitage. He set before her the finest 
fruit, and did everything in his power to assuage 
her grief. 


30 


THE SWAN’S PLUMAGE. 


But the distressed maiden seemed to care for 
nothing. She sank down in a corner, and ap- 
peared utterly overcome with her affliction. 

The sympathizing Friedbert took her grief so 
to heart that he could not restrain his own 
tears. The beautiful foreigner felt somewhat 
comforted by this apparent sympathy. She 
spoke freely to him of the stolen robe, and begged 
his pardon for her former suspicion of him. She 
tried very hard to find some means of making 
the cause of her grief intelligible to her host ; 
for Friedbert seemed to have no idea of what she 
was saying, or what was the cause of her sorrow. 

The night passed in the hermitage very sadly ; 
but as the morning light ever brings comfort and 
relief to those in grief, so now the rosy finger of 
dawn dried the tears which the fair maiden had 
been shedding all through the night. 

Friedbert did everything that he thought would 
best please his beautiful guest. 

She partook but slightly of the tempting break- 
fast which he set before her ; then she went out 
to search again on the shore of the pond for the 
lost swan-robe ; for she thought, perchance, the 
wind might have blown it in among the shrub- 
bery. 

The obliging Friedbert accompanied her in the 
search, although he well knew that it was a 
useless trouble, 


THE SWAN'S PLUMAGE. 


31 


The unsuccessful search, indeed, brought the 
tears afresh into the eyes of the fair one ; but 
her companion did his utmost to soothe her 
grief. 

She became by degrees more resigned to her 
fate ; her sad eyes grew brighter, and she ex- 
pressed delight in the companionship of the her- 
mit, for whose kindness she was very grateful. 

The sly young hermit noticed all this with 
great pleasure, and by every little attention ex- 
erted himself more and more to win for himself 
her good opinion. 

Little by little they both learned, by signs and 
by speech, to understand each other well, so that 
they grew more and more companionable. 

Friedbert learned from the maiden that she 
was of noble birth, being the youngest daughter 
of Prince Theodore, and the beautiful Helena of 
Naxos ; and that her name was Killiste. He 
begged her to allow him to call her Swanhilde, 
and she had no objection to offer ; indeed, she 
seemed to be rather pleased with the soft sound 
of the name. 

“ Tell me, good hermit,” said she one day, 
“what is the secret history of this pond, and 
why did my mother always warn her daughters 
against flying hither ? Did she ever in this 
place have the misfortune to lose her swan-robe ? 
She used to send us every year to the waters of 


32 


THE SWAN'S PLUMAGE. 


the Nile ; but my elder sisters wished, at least 
once, to take their airy journey toward the 
North. Youth and thoughtlessness made them 
forget the maternal warning. They believed 
the fresher air and cool breezes of this region 
would be more refreshing to them than the hot 
atmosphere of the Egyptian deserts. 

“ During the first journey, in which they dis- 
regarded their mother’s wishes, all passed off 
well, and after she died, we thoughtlessly took 
this journey yearly, until I, unfortunate one, 
have become the victim of my elder sisters’ in- 
discretion. Ah ! where does the cruel magician 
conceal himself, who, taking pleasure in the 
misfortune of others, spies out an unsuspecting 
maiden and robs her of her only means of return- 
ing home ? Tell me, who is this wicked wretch, 
that I may force him to give me back my own ; 
it cannot be of any use to him and yet it is of so 
much importance to me.” 

Friedbert was rejoiced not a little at the mis- 
taken idea of the angry Swanhilde, who thought 
that some magician had committed the theft ; 
and he took pains to strengthen her in her 
delusion. 

He invented for her a story of a disguised 
prince, who was, he said, reported to inhabit the 
swan field, and who, taking a malicious delight 
in others’ grief, found great pleasure in stealing 


THE SWAN'S PLUMAGE. 


33 


the plumage of the swan-maidens, and then 
mocking and ridiculing them in their helpless- 
ness. He at the same time gave her to under- 
stand that he had heard how some years ago a 
swan-maiden had lost her plumage on that very 
spot ; but she had found it again, and so it had 
soon been forgotten. 

His attentive listener seemed comforted by 
this story. But the lack of all the pleasures 
and comforts of life in this deserted place did 
not suit the lovely princess and her young heart 
pined to go out into the busy world. 

The sly Swabian did not at once consent to 
this wish ; at last, however, he determined to 
leave the hermitage with her. He gave her to un- 
derstand, that for the sacrifice it would be to him 
to return to the noise and bustle of the world, 
nothing could repay him but the great charms 
and vast wealth which she possessed. As she 
seemed to silently consent to this, he the next 
day gathered together all his portable property, 
attired himself again as a soldier and set forth 
with his beautiful betrothed on the way toward 
his home. 


34 


THE FRUSTRATED NUPTIALS. 


IV. 

THE FRUSTRATED NUPTIALS. 

There was a little town in Swabia called 
Eglingen. In this little town lived Eriedbert’s 
mother, who was a widow. She hallowed the 
memory of her dead husband and cursed the 
Misnians, who had, she thought, slain her son. 

Whenever a maimed soldier, returning from 
the Misnian war, stopped before her door to ask 
for alms, she would always give him a groschen 
and inquire if he knew anything of her son. If 
he happened to be a loquacious fellow of an in- 
ventive mind he would perhaps make up some 
story about her son — how he had fought bravely 
in the battle and had fallen as a hero, or how he 
had sent a farewell to his mother with his last 
breath as he lay on the field of bloodshed. Then 
the good mother would bring the impostor into 
her house and set wine before him, as a friend of 
her lamented son, her eyes brimming over afresh 
at the thought of her boy’s last hours. 

In this way four summers had passed over her 
and the atumnal winds had set in, when the lit- 
tle town was awakened one day by the arrival 


THE FRUSTRATED NUPTIALS. 


35 


of a messenger, announcing that Friedbert had 
not been slain in battle, but was even then re- 
turning from foreign lands well equipped j that 
he had met with many wonderful adventures in 
the neighborhood of Misnia, and was now on his 
way home, bringing with him a most beautiful 
bride, who was the daughter of a great prince 
and possessed vast treasures. 

The report spread everywhere. The fact was 
that Friedbert had acquired great wealth by in- 
heriting all Father Benno’s savings, and, also, 
by the large sums of money which some of the 
people had paid him for little relics of the old 
hermit. 

As he traveled on toward Swabia, from place 
to place, he increased his train. He bought 
horses and mules with handsome trappings, at- 
tired himself and the beautiful Swanhilde in ele- 
gant robes, hired servants and attendants and 
traveled on as proudly as a prince. 

When the inhabitants of Eglingen saw, in 
the far distance, the procession leaving the gates 
of Augsburger and traveling toward their town, 
they all assembled at the town gate with huzzas 
and shouts of triumph. Friedbert’s sisters and 
their husbands, together with all the members 
of the town council and the other chief people 
of Eglingen, went out to meet their newly-found 
fellow- townsman. They welcomed him with 


36 


THE FRUSTRATED NUPTIALS. 


drums and fifes and all kinds of music and re- 
joicing, as if he had risen from the dead. 

The fond mother embraced her son with joy 
unbounded. She invited all her friends and ac- 
quaintances to a great feast of thanksgiving, and 
distributed alms freely among the poor. She 
could never weary of admiring the exquisite form 
of her future daughter-in-law and loading her 
with caresses; indeed, she quite tired the lovely 
maiden with her well-meant attentions. 

The beautiful Princess of Naxos soon became 
the talk of the town and all the neighboring 
country. Many knights and nobles rode thither, 
called the lucky Friedbert “ brother ” and 
“ cousin,” sought his company, and swore eternal 
friendship to him. But he kept the charming 
Swanhilde from seeing all these would-be ad- 
mirers and left her to the faithful care of his lov- 
ing mother. 

At every opportunity, and with all the ardor 
he possessed, Friedbert pleaded with her for the 
fulfillment of his greatest wish ; and the beautiful 
foreigner, having no hopes of ever being able to 
return to her native land, overlooked the great 
difference between their respective stations in 
life, and at last consented to become his bride. 
He presented her with costly bridal raiment, the 
day for their marriage was appointed, the fatted 


THE FRUSTRATED NUPTIALS. 


37 


calf and the capons were slain, and the wedding 
feast prepared. 

On the day before the wedding the bridegroom- 
elect rode through the neighboring country to 
invite the guests to the marriage feast. 

In his absence the lovely Swanhilde occupied 
the time in arranging her wedding attire, for 
woman’s vanity enticed her to try on the new 
dress to see if it were becoming to her. As there 
were many things about the robe which did not 
suit her fancy, she was obliged to seek the advice 
of her future mother-in-law. 

The talkative old mother came at once when 
called, and immediately poured forth a torrent 
of praises over the exquisite form of the grace- 
ful maiden and the beauty of the bridal costume. 
Yet Swanhilde was not contented with the robe. 
Especially did she find fault with the awkward 
set of the bridal veil, which she compared to a 
coarse waterproof. 

“ Ah,” said she with a sigh, “that my wedding 
attire could be adorned by one of the veils of 
Naxos which float in the air like the lightest 
snow-cloud, then would every maiden in the town 
envy me, and Friedbert’s chosen one would be 
praised as the most beautiful of brides.” 

Tears of grief trickled down the maiden’s 
bright cheeks at the reference to her home which 
she feared she would never see again. The good 


38 


THE FEUS TEA TED NUPTIALS. 


mother was very much moved at this, for she be- 
lieved the tears of a bride to be a bad omen. 

She comforted Swanhilde by promising to give 
her a silver bandeau, which had once adorned 
her own head in her youth, and with which she 
could fasten on the veil in the Grecian style. 
She hastily opened an old chest which contained 
her jewelry, and began to rummage about in it 
for the silver bandeau. 

Swanhilde watched her movements with some 
attention. Suddenly she spied at the bottom of 



the chest her own shining white swan-plumage. 
Quickly she pushed aside the old mother, dragged 
up her priceless treasure, dashed open the win- 
dow, and, as she threw the light feather-robe 
around her slight form, she became a swan. 


THE FRUSTRATED NUPTIALS. 


39 


Then she spread her wings and flew joyfully out 
of the window. 

The astonished old woman became motionless 
with horror at this trasmutation, for Friedbert had 
intrusted to her care the swan-robe without im- 
parting to her its wonderful secret. He had 
only told her to keep it at the bottom of the 
chest for safety. 

The old woman fell on her knees and prayed 
for protection, for she thought the beautiful 
Swanhilde was nothing more than a sprite, or 
some devil’s trick. 

Friedbert, little dreaming of the sad news that 
awaited him on his return, came riding joyfully 
home towards evening. He alighted quickly 
from his horse and, hastening up the steps with- 
out waiting to unfasten his spurs, he entered the 
hall to greet his bride. But as he opened the 
door, his mother, wailing loudly, hastened to 
meet him, and recounted to him the sad and 
wonderful occurrence of the morning. 

He listened to his mother’s narrative with con- 
sternation. When she had concluded he rent 
his clothes, tore his hair, and acted as if he were 
distracted, weeping as if his heart would break. 

The bridegroom without a bride found his con- 
dition unbearable. There is scarcely a more 
painful situation than to be shipwrecked just be- 
fore. entering the harbor, when one believes he 


40 


THE FRUSTRATED NUPTIALS. 


has traveled safely around the world. It is quite 
as painful a situation to lose on the very evening 
before the wedding day a most fondly loved 
bride. 

Had she eloped with a robber ? Had she, by 
the advice of some hard-he-arted monk, entered 
a cloister ? The bridegroom was at a loss to 
answer ; but he determined to hunt down the 
robber whoever he might be, and rescue the fair 
captive from his grasp, or to bring her out 
through the fast-closed portals of the nunnery. 
But she had flown out of the window and high 
up in the air ; whither then should he hasten 
after her, or who could give him any clue ? 

Friedbert, after meditating for some time, saw 
no other way to get possession of his truant 
bride than to traverse both land and sea until he 
found the hiding-place of his beloved. 

His impatient longing for Swanhilde made 
him reflect with great sadness on the vast dis- 
tance between the Swabian land and the island 
of Naxos. 

“Ah,” he cried out in utter despair, “how 
can a miserable snail follow the light-winged 
lark, while the snail, unsteady and uncertain, 
toils along from one flower to another, never 
knowing where he will go next ? Who can say, 
surely, that Swanhilde has flown back to Naxos, 
and, even if she is now there, what good can that 


THE FRUSTRATED NUPTIALS. 


41 


do me ? Could I dare to aspire to the hand of 
the daughter of the prince of the land ? 

With these reflections the broken-hearted bride- 
groom tormented himself for many days until 
his unconquerable longing for his bride drove him 
at last to a hasty resolution. Saddling his best 
horse, he took with him a large sum of money for 
his traveling expenses, and, after bidding his 
mother an affectionate farewell, he rode away 
from his home, and galloped quickly over his 
native lands toward the far-off island. 

As he rode he recalled to mind the way in 
which Father Benno had reached the island. 
Taking the same route as the latter, Friedbert 
likewise, after a long sea-voyage (only without 
shipwreck) arrived, safe and sound, at the island 
of Naxos. 

Here Prince Theodore, Swanhilde’s father, yet 
swayed the scepter. The beautiful Helena, his 
partner in joy and woe, had long since slept her 
last sleep. 



42 


FOUND AGAIN. 


v. 

FOUND AGAIN ON THE ISLAND OF NAXOS. 

Friedbert sprang on land with joy. He 
trod with boundless rapture upon the native 
soil of his truant bride, whom he hoped to 
find again in her father’s palace. He tried at 
once to .get some information concerning the 
beautiful Swanhilde’s hiding-place, but no one 
could tell him whither the princess had vanished. 

This grieved him beyond measure, and he was 
uncertain whether he should return to his her- 
mitage by the swannery, or seek his lost prize 
on the banks of the Nile. 

While he was turning over in his mind what 
he had best do, a neighboring prince, who was 
soon to be married to Princess Irene, one of 
Swanhilde’s sisters, arrived at the court of 
Naxos. 

Prince Theodore had prepared a magnificent 
marriage feast, and the ceremonies were to be 
concluded by a great tournament. 

This news revived in the Swabian hero all 
his war courage. Tormented as he was with 
melancholy and depression, he sought for some 


FOUND AGAIN. 


43 


diversion ; this relief he hoped to find in the 
coming contest. 

In the market of the city, and at all the cross 
streets, heralds proclaimed the day and hour of 
the tournament, and especially - invited all for- 
eign knights to attend and try their skill. 

Friedbert provided himself with a sparkling 
new suit of armor ; he purchased, at a high price, 
a valiant steed, and on the stated day, at the ap- 
pointed time, he appeared in the court, and, with- 
out delay, entered his name in the lists. 

In the first course he broke the lance of his 
adversary with great skill ; he kept his seat firmly 
in the saddle, and earned, by his bravery and 
tact, the praises of all present, receiving con- 
gratulations from the newly-married prince and 
princess. 

The tournament was followed by a series of 
charming dances. 

Although everything swam in a stream of 
pleasure and excitement, yet Friedbert did not 
allow himself to be carried away in the whirl of 
enjoyment. In the midst of the noise of the gay 
court life, with songs and mummings and lively 
dances, he bore on his face the marks of his deep 
grief. His longing for his beautiful bride re- 
mained undiminished, and the Grecian maidens 
adorned themselves in vain for the stranger 
knight. 


44 


FOUND AGAIN 


One day the bride, Princess Irene, began to ban- 
ter him about his indifferent manner. “ Unfeel- 
ing knight, is your heart quite free, and yet in- 
sensible to all love and affection, that the bloom- 
ing faces of the beautiful maidens of my court 
make no impression on you ? Why do you often 
wander off alone and so sadly, when you are 
everywhere invited to participate in all the gay 
festivities of the court? Pray tell me your 
trouble, that I may see if it is in my power to 
help you in any way, for I see that you have some 
great hidden grief.” 

“ Your kind thoughtfulness, noble Irene,” re- 
plied Priedbert, “sees into the depth of my 
soul. You conjecture rightly that I bear in my 
breast the deepest affliction. And I know not 
whether I dare cherish the idea of my grief being 
turned into joy, or whether I must abandon all 
hopes forever. The lovely maiden whose charms 
hold me prisoner, mind and soul, moves not in 
the circle of your train. Nevertheless, I have 
found her in your father’s palace; but, alas, 
only in the form of what may be, perhaps, but 
the glowing imagination of an artist. And yet it 
seems to me incredible that any painter could 
produce such a work had not the master hand of 
Nature first drawn those angelic features for him 
to copy from.” 

The princess was impatient to learn which 


FOUND AGAIN 


45 


picture had made so deep an impression on the 
heart of the young knight. “ Follow me thither 
at once,” said she, “ that I may see if the charm- 
ing features really belong to a maiden whom I 
know.” 

In the castle there was an exquisite collection 
of paintings. Some were only fancies of cele- 
brated painters, while others were family por- 



traits. Among these was a picture of Swanhilde. 

When they entered the gallery Friedbert 
rushed with ardent impetuosity to the beloved 
picture, and said, half-lost in contemplation: 
“ Behold, here, the chosen of my heart ! Where 
can I find her ? Upon your lips hangs my life 
or death. Speak, I adjure you ! If all my past 
hopes are vain, so let me die at your feet : but if 
you can give me one ray more of that blessed 
hope, then reveal to me among what people or 
in what land is this angel of beauty, that I may 


46 


FOUND AGAIN. 


travel thither to seek out the joy of my heart, 
and by toil and .deeds of fearless bravery win 
her affection, cost what it may.” 

The princess seemed much embarrassed by this 
disclosure ; her face became grave, and she spoke 
as follows : “ Thoughtless man, how can you give 
your heart to a maiden in a picture without know- 
ing if she be alive or not, and if living, whether 
she is of a companionable age for you and could 
return your love ? Your imagination has, indeed, 
this time not quite led you astray, for this lovely 
face is neither a fancy of the painter, nor yet 
a beauty of past ages, but it is the face of a 
young maiden who is very near and dear to me. 
Alas ! once she lived in this castle, my dearest 
sister ; but now she is miserable — a slave to mis- 
fortune. She could never return your affection, 
for she has already given her heart to a worthless 
wretch who is separated from her by many hun- 
dred miles ; for she had the courage to escape 
from the snare that he had set for her. She 
nevertheless loved him, and now mourns over 
her ill fate in the solitude of a cloister.” 

Friedbert feigned to be terribly shocked at 
this communication, but secretly rejoiced that he 
had discovered his bride’s retreat ; and yet more 
that he had received from the sister’s lips the 
unexpected assurance of the princess’ love for 
him. He entreated the kind-hearted Princess 


FOUND AGAIN. 


47 


Irene to relate to him the story of her dear sis- 
ter’s misfortunes. She yielded to his request 
with a half-true and half-invented story ; but 
Friedbert, knowing it already, could, without 
much trouble, separate the truth from the fiction. 

“ My sister,” said she, “ was wandering about 
on the coast of the sea, driven beyond the safety 
of the walls around her father’s palace by curi- 
osity to visit some unknown spot. Hidden be- 
hind a sand mound on the curve of the shore a 
pirate boat lay at anchor. The merry girl never 
thought of danger. Suddenly a pirate sprang 
out from the boat, hastily overtook the fright- 
ened girl, and carried her in his arms to his boat, 
in which he at once sailed out into the broad sea. 
He tried, by a thousand little attentions and 
flatteries, to win her affection, and so at last 
succeeded in stealing her heart. She forgot 
her noble birth, and was on the very point of 
being united to the crafty pirate in the sacred 
and indissoluble bond of matrimony. Just then 
the wind blew a small ship close to the pirate 
boat ; my sister thought of her native land and 
of the bitter tears which were being shed for her 
at home. 

“ Yielding to the impulse, she cried out loudly 
to be rescued from the pirates, and by the help 
of those on board the ship she escaped from 
her captors. But the strong affection for the 


48 


FOUND AGAIN 


pirate, which had already taken possession of 
her heart, was implanted deeply there and could 
not be rooted out. 

“ The separation from him, though her own act, 
caused her pain and regret. All her former joy- 
ousness vanished; her bright eyes lost their 
lustre, and distress and regret are now fast sink- 
ing her into her grave.” 

“ Then/’ exclaimed Friedbert, “ so shall her 
grave be also mine. My life is in my own hands, 
and who is he that shall hinder me from dying 
with the lovely princess ? I beseech of you only 
one favor ; namely, to see that my body is buried 
next to hers ; that, at least, in death Ne may 
be together. Yet allow me first the comfort of 
acknowledging to her that she is the light of my 
eyes, the chosen of my heart.” 

The Princess Irene was so moved by these 
words that she could not restrain her tears. 
She promised to comply with his request, and 
provided him with a scroll to the abbess of the 
nunnery, begging her to allow the bearer of the 
same a private interview with the Princess 
Killiste. 

Friedbert mounted his steed immediately. 
Wavering between doubt and hope, he spurred 
the animal to his fastest gallop, to learn as soon 
as possible how his former bride would receive 
him. All things taken into consideration, he 


FOUND AGAIN 


49 


had reason to believe she had forgiven him for 
the robbery of her swan robe. 

With a beating heart he entered the cell of 
the lovely maiden. She sat on a low stool just 
opposite the cell door. Her curling hair fell 
in soft ringlets over her shoulders, only loosely 
fastened back by a narrow silk band ; her head 
rested on her lily whi^e arms ; she seemed to be 
in the deepest distress. She was evidently not 
aware that any one was approaching her cell ; but 
as Friedbert prostrated himself at her feet she 
raised her tearful eyes and recognized her lover. 

He seized her fair hand with rapture, and im- 
plored her, with all the ardor of his nature, to 
forgive him for the stealing of her plumage. 

The assurance and proof that he had followed 
her from Swabia to the distant island of Naxos, 
and from there to the cloister, gained *for him 
full forgiveness ; and the beautiful princess 
promised to share the rest of her life with him. 

To have won the victory after so many 
hardships and disappointments plunged the en- 
raptured Friedbert into transports of delight. 
He could scarcely realize the blessed truth 
that Swanhilde was indeed his for life. 

Half beside himself with joy, and in company 
with his beloved bride, he hastened back to her 
father’s palace. 

The Princess Irene was amazed beyond expres- 


50 


FOUND AGAIN. 


sion that her sorrowing sister had so very sud- 
denly given up her resolution to pass the rest of 
her life in seclusion, entirely cut off from the 
society of men. She embraced her tenderly and 
with fervent joy welcomed her back to her home. 

Friedbert had, by his knightly bearing and 
pleasant manners, won the universal esteem and 
affection of the people of Naxos. Prince Theo- 



dore, Swanhilde’s father, overlooked therefore all 
difference of rank and birth, and willingly gave 
his consent to the marriage of his daughter to 
the Swabian. More than all, Friedbert could de- 
pend upon his own good sword. This was ever 
ready and in hand to defend against any man his 
name and birth. 

Friedbert remained on the beautiful island of 
Naxos, His old mother was escorted thither by 


FOUND AGAIN. 


51 


an ambassador. Thereafter she spent her days 
with her noble son, and there he lived with his 
noble wife many happy years. 

The lovely Swanhilde always thought with de- 
light and gratitude of the bold robbery of her 
swan plumage. It had brought her, she declared, 
to such a happy and loving union. 







































9 







































THE SHEPHERD BOY AND THE 
KING’S DAUGHTER. AM' 







There was once a poor little shepherd boy who 
had no one to take care of him but his step- 
mother, and she was a very wicked woman. 

All day long he had to watch her flock of sheep, 
and the only food she. gave him was a small crust 
of bread in the morning and one at night. 

One morning the step-mother went out with- 
out leaving him even his usual scanty breakfast. 
He was so hungry that for some time he cried 
bitterly. But at mid-day he dried his eyes and 
drove his flock up to a hill where he always took 
shelter from the sun under the shade of some 
great trees. It was usually very cool on this 
hill, for there was always a heavy dew on the 
grass until late in the day ; but now the ground 
was dry and the grass trodden down. 

This seemed strange, and the boy wondered 
who could have trodden down the fresh grass. 

55 


56 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


At the same time he saw on the ground some- 
thing that glittered in the sunlight. He sprang 
toward it, and behold, there lay a pair of tiny 
glass shoes, half hidden in the soft 
grass. From that moment he was 
happy ; he forgot his hunger, and 
played all day with the little glass 
shoes. 

Towards evening, when the sun 
went down, the shepherd boy col- 
lected his flock and started homeward. 
When he had gone a little way he met a very 
tiny boy, who greeted him with a friendly 
“Good evening.” 

“Good evening,” returned the little shep- 
herd. 

The little one asked, “Have you found my 
shoes which I lost, this morning, in the green 
grass ? ” 

The shepherd boy answered, “Yes, I have; 
but, dear little boy, let me keep the 
shoes ; I thought if I found them they 
were mine. I wish to take them home 
to my step-mother, and then, perhaps, she will 
give me something to eat, for I am very hungry.” 

But the tiny boy begged very sweetly : “ Please 
give me back my shoes, and some other time I 
will serve you in return.” 

So the little shepherd gave back the wee glass 




THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


57 


shoes. And the tiny boy was delighted and ran 
on his way rejoicing. 

The shepherd boy then called his sheep to- 
gether and started for home. When he reached 
his yard it was already dark and his step-mother 
scolded him roundly for being late. 

“ In the kitchen there is a little soup which I 
left,” said she, “ go eat it, and then pack off to 
bed, that you may get up earlier in the morning.” 

The poor boy dared not reply to these hard 
words ; he hurried through his scanty meal and 
then crept off to his bed of hay on the floor, 
where he fell asleep. But all through the night 
he dreamed of the tiny boy and the wee glass 
shoes. 

Early next morning, before the sun appeared 
in the east, the boy was awakened by his step- 
mother’s call. 

“Up with you, idler,” she cried, “it is broad 
day and the sheep cannot wait hungry while 
you waste your time in sleep.” 

He arose at once, received his bit of bread, and 
drove his flock to the meadows. When he went 
up to the green hill, which was always so fresh 
and cool, he was surprised to find, as on the day 
before, that the dew had disappeared and the 
grass was trodden down. 

While he sat there wondering what could have 
caused this change, he saw something glitter in 


58 


THE S HEP HEED BOY. 


the soft grass. Hastily springing forward, he 
found it to be a tiny red cap hung all around 
with little gold bells. Again he was happy, and 
forgot his hunger, and played all 
day with the little red cap. 

In the evening, before the sun 
had set, the little shepherd gath- 
ered together his flock and started 
to drive them home. 

On his way he met the tiniest 
and most beautiful little maiden, 
who greeted him with her sweet 
voice and said, “ Good evening ! ” 

“ Good evening,” returned the little shepherd. 

Then the wee maiden asked, “ Have you found 
my cap which I lost in the green grass this 
morning ? ” 

“ Yes, I have,” answered the little boy, “but, 
dear little maid, let me keep the cap. I wish to 
give it to my wicked step-mother ; then, perhaps, 
she will give me something to eat when I go 
home.” 

But the little maid begged very sweetly and 
said, “ Please give me back my cap, and 
another time I will serve you in return.” 

So the boy gave the wee maiden her 
cap. And she was very happy, gave him a 
friendly nod and ran on her way. 

Then the boy collected his flock again and 




THE SHEPHEBD BOY. 


59 


drove them home. When he reached the yard it 
was quite dark and his step-mother had been ex- 
pecting him for some time. She was, therefore, 
very angry and said : 

“ Pray, why must you always be so late that I 
have to sit up and wait for you ? In the kitchen 
there is something left for you to eat. Go quickly, 
eat, and then pack off to bed that you may be up 
early in the morning.” 

The poor little boy made no reply to this un- 
kind command. He ate what was left 
for him and crept to his bed of hay. 

But all through the night he dreamed of 
the w r ee maiden and her tiny red cap. 

Early next morning, be- 

fore the day had dawned, very sweetly 
the step-mother awakened 

the boy with her usual call : “ Get up, you idler, 
and be off, that the sheep may not be hungry.” 

The boy sprang up and prepared to drive his 
flock to pasture ; but before he started he asked 
his step-mother for a bit of bread. The wicked 
woman answered : 

“No, you good-for-nothing idler! you are not 
worth the bread you eat.” 

So the little boy had to go forth without any 
food, which was very hard for him. When he 
had reached the green hill where he always 
rested during the heat of the sujnmer, he noticed 



60 


THE SHEPIIEBD BOY. 


that the ground was even drier than on the last 
two days, and the grass was trodden down in 
large circles. Then he remembered what he had 
heard long ago of the little elves who danced in 
the summer nights on the dewy grass ; and he 
thought that the circles of trodden-down grass 
must be where they had been dancing. 

As he sat thinking of this his foot struck 
against a little bell which lay hidden in the 
grass. The little bell rang out so clearly and 
sweetly that all the flock came running hither, 
as if in obedience to its call. 

So the little shepherd boy was made happy 
again ; he played with his newly-found treasure 
until he forgot all his troubles ; even the sheep 
forgot to eat while listening to the sweet sounds 
of the little bell. And so the day passed more 
quickly than he had thought possible. 

When evening came on and the sun began to 
sink behind the woods the shepherd boy called 
his flock together, that he might hasten home 
before it grew dark. But the sheep did not come 
at his call ; they would not leave off eating, because 
they had just found a spot of the finest grass. 

Then the boy thought, “Perhaps they will 
come sooner at the sound of the bell.” So he 
rang his tiny bell quite loudly as he went along. 
At the sound of the bell, all the flock began to 
run to him, and followed him without once stop- 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


61 


ping to eat. Then the little boy rejoiced greatly 
at having found such a treasure ; for he saw how 
useful the bell would be to him. 

As he went on, he met quite a tiny old man, 
who gave him a friendly nod and said, 

“ Good evening.” 

“ Good evening,” answered the boy 
politely. 

The old man asked, “Have you 
found my bfell which I lost in the 
grass this morning ? ” 

“ Yes, I have,” answered the little 
shepherd. 

“Please give it back to me,” said 
the little old man. 

“No,” replied the boy, “I will not 
be so stupid again. The day before yesterday 
I found a pair of glass slippers which a little 
boy begged from me ; yesterday, I found a tiny 
red cap which I gave to a wee maiden ; and 
now you want to take the little bell which is so 
useful to me to call together my flock. Others 
are rewarded for their finding, but I never re- 
ceive anything.” 

The tiny old man begged hard for his little 
bell ; but finding his pleading all in vain he said, 
“Give me back my bell and I will give you 
another one to call your sheep together. More- 
over, you can wish three wishes.” 



62 


THE SHEPHEBD BOY. 


This seemed to the boy a good exchange, and 
he gave up the bell to the little old man. “If I 
may wish what I will,” said the boy, “ then I 
wish, first, to be a king ; and then, I wish to have 
a great kingdom, all my own ; and then, I wish to 
marry a most beautiful princess to be my queen.” 

“Well,” said the old man, “truly you wish 
no small wishes ; but, bear carefully in mind all 
that I say to you. In the night, when all are 
asleep, you shall leave your house and go until 
you come to a king’s court, which lies toward the 



north. Here is a bone whistle for you. If you 
are in need of help blow upon this ; if you are 
again in perplexity blow the second time upon 
it; but, if a third time you are in very great 
danger, then break the whistle and I will come 
to your assistance as I have promised,” 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


63 


The boy thanked the old man for his present, 
and the elf-king went his way. The little shep- 
herd went home rejoicing at the thought that 
he would not have to watch his wicked step- 
mother’s sheep any more. 

When he reached his home, it was quite dark. 
His step-mother had awaited his return for 
some time, and this night instead of food he 
received blows. But as he crept to his bed of 
hay, he comforted himself with the thought that 
he would soon leave the house, to return no 
more. He laid down, but slept only a short 
time. 

Soon after midnight and long before the first 
cock had crowed, he arose, crept quietly from 
the house, and began his journey towards the 
North, as the elf-king had bidden him. With- 
out food, he wandered over mountains and 
through valleys. Twice the sun rose and twice 
the sun set while the boy was on his way. 

On the third day he came to a king’s court. 
He had never dreamed of seeing one so great 
and large. But the little shepherd went into 
the servants’ hall and asked for employment. 

“ What kind of work can you do ? ” asked the 
steward. 

“ I can watch sheep,” answered the boy. 

“Ah !” said the steward, “the king just now 
needs a shepherd, and it will go well with you 


64 


THE SHE PIIE ED BOY. 


if you do not, like all your predecessors, lose 
daily one sheep from your flock.” 

“ Oh ! ” returned the boy, “I have never yet lost 
one from the flock where I was shepherd.” 

So he was hired at the great king’s court to 
watch the king’s sheep. But no wolf ever took 
a lamb from his flock, and he was 
treated well by all the king’s servants 
and attendants. 

One evening when the little 
shepherd was driving his flock 
home, he saw a beautiful young maiden 
standing at an open window, listening to his 
shepherd’s song. His heart beat and his cheeks 
flushed at the sight of the lovely maiden, but he 
concealed the fact as best he could. 

Every day, as time went on, when the boy led 
his flock out in tkejmorning, or drove them home 
at night, singing his merry shepherd’s songs, 
there stood the maiden at the window, listening 
to his sweet, clear voice. He did not know 
that she was indeed the king’s young daughter. 

It happened, however, one morning, when the 
boy was just driving his flock out to pasture, that 
he met the maiden. She had with her a snow- 
white lamb, and she asked him to take it out 
in the meadow with him, and protect it from the 
wolves. 

The little shepherd was so filled with joy at 


TNe 

<fj tew^rd 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


65 


having the beautiful maiden speak to him, that 
he could not answer her, neither could he speak 
a word. But he took the lamb with him, and 
his greatest pleasure was to protect and pet the 
little creature. 

The lamb soon became so much attached to 
him that it fawned on him as a favorite dog 
fawns on its master. 

From that day the little boy often saw the 
young princess. In the morning, as he drove 
his flock out, she sat at the open window, to lis- 
ten to his merry shepherd’s songs, and in the 
evening, when he drove them home again, she 
would go into the court to caress her pet lamb, 
and speak a few kind words to the little shepherd. 

As time passed, the little shepherd boy grew 
to be a strong, robust youth, while the king’s 
daughter bloomed out as the loveliest rose, and 
became the most beautiful maiden that could be 
found. Nevertheless she came every evening, as 
before, to watch the flock as they were driven 
home. But one bright day the princess was not 
to be found ; she had disappeared, no one knew 
whither. Then there was mourning and lamen- 
tation throughout the king’s court, for every one 
had loved the beautiful maiden. 

The king and queen were almost distracted. 
Throughout his whole kingdom the king had it 
proclaimed that whosoever would And and restore 


66 


THE SHEPHEIW BOY. 


to him his daughter should receive the princess 
as his bride and half the riches of the kingdom. 

So there came kings’ sons, and knights and 
champions, from the East and the West, who 
arrayed themselves in iron armor and set forth, 
with followers well armed, in search of the miss- 
ing princess. But few came back from their 
search, and those who did return to the court 
had neither seen nor heard anything of the prin- 
cess. The poor king and queen felt that they 
had suffered a loss for which nothing could ever 
compensate them. And the shepherd, as he 
drove the flock to and from the meadow, never 
for a moment had the princess out of his 
thoughts. 

One night when asleep it seemed to the shep- 
herd as though the little elf-king stood by his 
bed and said, “ In the North, in the North, there 
is your future queen.” 

The youth was so rejoiced that he sprang up 
in his sleep and awoke. And — lo ! there stood 
the little old man, who nodded and said, “ To 
the North ! to the North ! ” Thereupon he van- 
ished so quickly that the shepherd was not cer- 
tain whether it was the elf-king himself, or only 
a phantom. 

When it was broad day the shepherd went up 
to the palace hall and requested to speak to the 
king. All the servants wondered greatly at such 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


67 


a request, and the steward said “ You have now 
been shepherd for the king’s flock so long that 
you can have your wages raised and your fare 
improved without speaking to the king in 
person.” 

But the shepherd insisted on his first request 
being granted, and gave them to understand that 
his business with the king was of quite a different 
nature from what they supposed. So his request 
being taken to the king, he was sent for to come 
to his royal chamber. 

And the king, when the shepherd was brought 
before him, bade him speak out and say why 
he had desired to be brought into 
his presence. 

The shepherd answered, “ I 
have served you faithfully for 
many years, and now I crave 
permission to go forth and seek the princess.” 

Thereupon the king grew angry, and said, 
“ How do you, who can do naught but drive the 
flock to the meadow, think of accomplishing that 
which kings’ sons have failed in? ” 

But the shepherd replied that he would find 
the princess or lose his life in the search. 

Then the king remembered the old proverb, 
that under a rough coat there often beats a 
brave, warm heart. Checking his anger, he bade 
the steward furnish the shepherd with money, 



68 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


a horse and whatever else he needed. The shep- 
herd, however, said, “ I expect neither gold, nor 
horse ; give me only your permission to go and 
some food for the way ! ” He then took leave 
of the king, who wished him good luck. But 
all the servants and attendants laughed at his 
foolish enterprise. 

The youth wandered toward the North, as 
the elf-king had bidden him. After he had 
traveled over mountains and through dense 
Ik, woods, he came suddenly to a wide sea. 
>|j | In the midst of this sea, on a green island, 
^ there was a great castle, larger 

pi than the one from which the 

Open Window ^ youth had come. He went around 
on the sea-coast and viewed the 
%3. castle from all sides. While examining the 
outside of the castle, he saw a lovely maiden 
standing at an open window. Her thick golden 
tresses hung loosely over her shoulders, and she 
waved to him a silken cord, that much resembled 
the one by which he used to lead the princess’ 
lamb. 

His heart beat loudly. He was certain that 
this was none other than the princess herself. 
He immediately began to think how he should 
get across the water to the king’s castle, for there 
was no boat in sight. At last it occurred to 
him that he could now prove whether or not the 


Hi? 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


G9 


little elves would help him. He pulled out his 
little bone whistle and blew one long note 
through it. 



“ Good evening ! ” said a voice behind him, at 
the very same instant. 

“ Good evening ! ” returned the youth. And 
as he spoke he turned in the direc- 
tion from which the voice came 

There stood the tiny 
boy whose wee glass 
shoes he had once found 
in the grass. 

“ What can I do for you ? ” asked the little 
elf-boy. 

The shepherd answered, “I pray you take me 
across the sea, to yonder castle.” 

The elf-boy replied, “Then get on my back, 
and hold on tightly.” 

At once the elf-boy changed into a great eagle 
which flew up in the air. But the shepherd 
held himself firmly on its back, and in a few 
moments they had reached the island on which 
the castle stood. 

Then the shepherd went to the chief hall and 


"]he Grea-t 

H, 

^ . 6men f 


asked for employment. 

“ What kind of work can you do ? ” asked the 
steward. 

“ 1 can take care of the flock,” replied the 
shepherd. 


70 


THE SHEPHEBD BOY. 


“Well,” returned the steward, “that is just 
what the giant wants, but perhaps it will be 
with you as with all others who have tried, for, 
if you lose one sheep, it will cost you your 
life.” 

The shepherd thought this rather a hard bar- 
gain, but he consented to try his luck. There- 
upon the steward wished him well, 
j^r. . and said that he might begin 
^ wor k ^0 nex t morning. 

So early the next morning he col- 
lected the giant’s flock and led them 
into the meadow, singing his songs 
and ringing his bell as was his custom. 
The princess sat at the open turret 
window and listened, but signed to him that 
he was not to let it be known that he saw 



her. 

In the evening when the shepherd returned 
with his flock from the meadow, the giant met 
him and roared out fiercely, “ You must pay with 
your life for the sheep that is lost ! ” But the 
giant counted the flock and no sheep was missing. 
With this he was much pleased. “That is 
good ; you shall be my shepherd as long as you 
live,” he said. Then he went down to the sea- 
coast, loosened his great magic ship, and, as 
was his custom every evening, sailed three times 
around the island. 


THE S HEP HE ED BOY. 


71 


While the giant was sailing the king’s daughter 
came to the window and sang : 

“ To-night, dear shepherd, we will fly, 

When bright the stars shine in the sky ; 

Come thou here and set me free, 

And myself and my crown I’ll give to thee.” 

By this the shepherd understood that he was 
to come there that night and rescue the princess. 
He went off without being noticed by any one, 
and when it was quite dark and all were fast 
asleep, he crept quietly to the tower, stood di- 
rectly under the turret window and sang : 

“ ’Neath your window, in the starlight, 

Your shepherd waits to set you free : 

Hasten down, O, gentle princess J 
That I your rescuer may be.” 

The princess whispered, “ I am bound with 
golden chains ; come and break them.” 

As the shepherd could think of no other 
means, he pulled out his whistle and blew 
one long note. 

And at the same instant a voice behind him 
said “ Good evening ! ” 

“ Good evening ! ” answered the shepherd, as 
he turned around. 

There stood the little elf-maiden whose tiny 
red cap he had once found in the grass. 


72 


THE SHEPHEBD BOY. 


“ What can I do for you ? ” asked the wee 
maiden. 

“I pray you,” returned the shepherd, “ that 
you will take the princess and myself away from 
this island.”' 

The little maiden said, “ Follow me.” 

Then they went to the tower in which the 
princess had her apartments. The great castle 
gate flew open of itself as the little elf ap- 
proached, and as she touched the chains which 
bound the princess they broke in pieces. They 
all three went down to the shore, and the little 
elf-maiden sang : 

“ Fish, be quick, swim up on the water; 

For you there’s great honor in store : 

You shall carry the king’s young daughter, 

And the future great king ashore.” 

With these words the little elf threw herself 
into the water, and there appeared at once a 
great fish splashing about in the waves. The fish 
said, Seat yourselves on my back. But the 
princess must not be frightened at what hap- 
pens; for if she is, then my power is at an 
end.” 

The shepherd and the king’s daughter did as 
they were bidden, and the fish carried them 
quickly through the waves. 

But while all this was happening the giant 


THE SHEPHEBD BOY. 


73 


awoke. Looking out through his window, he 
saw the shepherd floating across the water with 
the princess. 

“Ho, ho!” said the giant; “you shall not 
escape me so easily, my lady — you and your 
gallant rescuer.” 

Thereupon he took the form of an eagle and 
flew after them. But 
when the fish heard 
the flapping of the 
eagle’s wings, it dived 
deep under the water. 

At this the princess 
was so frightened that she 
screamed aloud. At once 
the fairy fish lost its power. 

So the eagle pounced upon 
his prey and carried off both 
the youth and maiden in 
his talons. 

When the giant had again 
reached his castle he had the 
shepherd thrown into a dark 
hole far under ground. But the princess was 
placed in the tower and well guarded, that she 
might not again escape. 

The shepherd lay in his dark dungeon and 
gave himself up to despair ; he thought that now 
there was no hope of his ever freeing the prin- 



TKe Gidj\t EL^sle 

caj-ri«4> off ^ 

tKe ppir\ce55 tta 
<i)KepKePcf- 


74 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


cess, and, moreover, he had thrown away his 
own life. 

Suddenly he remembered what the elf-king 
had said : “ If the third time you are in great 
danger, then break the little whistle and I will 
help you.” 

Therefore, as the shepherd never expected to 
see the light of day, he pulled out his little bone 
whistle and broke it in two. 

“ Good evening ! ” rang out a voice behind 
him. 

“ Good evening ! ” returned the shepherd 
thankfully, as he turned around. 

There stood the little elf-king, with a bright 
lamp in his hand ; and he asked, “ What can I 
do for you ? ” 

The shepherd replied, “I wish to free the 
princess, and carry her back to her father’s 
palace.” 

Thereupon the little man beckoned to the 
shepherd to come with him. 

They went through fast barred doors, and 
through many stately rooms, until they came to 
a great hall, the walls of which were covered 
with all manner of weapons: swords, lances, 
and axes. Some shone like polished steel, and 
others sparkled like the finest gold. 

The elf-king now kindled a fire on the large 
hearth and said, “Take off your clothes.” The 


THE SHEPHERD BOY. 


75 


shepherd did as he was told, and the little man 
threw the old garments into the fire. He then 
went to a large iron closet, and brought forth 
freSh linen and a complete suit of armor, which 
sparkled like pure gold. “ Put these on,” said 
the elf-king ; and the youth did so. 

Now, when the shepherd was clothed from 
head to foot in a fine suit of armor, the little 
man fastened a sharp sword at his side and said, 
“ It is destined that the giant shall fall by this 
sword, and this armor will withstand any steel.” 
They then returned to the deep dungeon. But 
the shepherd was as light at heart as a bird, and 
he thanked the elf-king with great joy for all the 
help he had given him. And so they parted. 

The next morning there was great noise and 
rejoicing throughout the giant’s court; for on 
that day the giant was to celebrate his nuptials 
with the young princess, and he had invited all 
his friends for a great feast. The princess was 
arrayed in costly robes ; a crown was upon her 
head, and bracelets and other jewelry adorned 
her neck and arms. All of these the giant’s 
mother had once worn. But the bride wept 
without ceasing, and her tears were so hot that 
they burned 'like fire. She cried most bitterly 
as the time approached for the wedding cere- 
mony, for she knew that the shepherd was first 
to be killed. 


76 


THE SHEPHEBD BOY. 


About mid-day, when all the guests were as- 
sembled in the court, the giant sent his servants 
to bring forth the shepherd, that he might be 
slain before their eyes. But, lo ! when they 
entered the dungeon, the ragged captive was 
gone, and in his place there stood a strong knight 
well armed with sword and lance. At this sight 
the servants were so terrified that they took to 
their heels. But the shepherd followed them 
closely and soon reached the court where all the 
wedding guests were assembled to witness his 
death. 

When the giant saw the knight in his sparkling 
armor he grew furious and roared out, “ A curse 
upon you and your hateful magic.” 

And as he spoke his 
eyes were so piercing, 
and glared so with rage, 
that they seemed to see 
through and through the armor. But 
the shepherd was not frightened in the least. 
He called out, “ Here, 0, wicked giant, shall 
you fight with me for the beautiful prin- 
cess.” 

And, as he drew forth his sword, it flashed out 
as a flame of fire. 

At the sight of the sword the giant trembled 
and turned pale. But the shepherd went straight 
up to him, and with one mighty blow, severed the 



THE SHE P HEED BOY. 


77 


tyrant’s head from his body. And thus the giant 
died. 

Now when the wedding guests saw that their 
host was dead, they took fright, and each one 
hurried off to his own home as fast as he could. 
The princess then ran up to the hero, and thanked 
her dear shepherd for saving her life. 

The two went at once to the sea-coast. There 
they loosened the giant’s great ship from its 
anchor, and sailed away from the island. 

When they reached the king’s palace, there 
was great rejoicing that the king and queen had 
recovered their only daughter, whose absence 
they had so long mourned. 

A great marriage feast was prepared, and the 
shepherd received the beautiful princess as his 
bride. 

The two lived happily for many years, and 
in peace and joy saw their children’s children 
gathered about them. 

And the little bell and the broken whistle are 
kept to this day as precious relics. 





THE CARAVAN. 


I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 
V. 

VI. 


x 


The Caliph Stork. 

The Haunted Ship. 

The Story of the Severed Hand. 
Fatme’s Fescue. 

The Story of the False Prince. 
The Stranger’s Story. 









One day, many years ago, a large caravan was 
traveling across the desert. Over the vast plain, 
where naught save sand and sky were to be seen, 
came, from the distance, the tinkle of the bells 
of the camels, and the jingle of the silver trap- 
pings of the .horses. A thick dust-cloud went 
before and proclaimed the approach of the cara- 
van ; and when a current of air parted the cloud, 
sparkling weapons and magnificently gorgeous 
raiments flashed before the eye. Thus did the 
caravan appear to a man who came riding towards 
it from another point. He was mounted on a 
beautiful Arabian steed, decked with a tiger-skin 
from which hung vermilion straps, having little 
silver bells attached. On the head of his horse, 
a beautiful plume of heron-feathers waved grace- 
fully to and fro. 

The rider’s bearing was majestic and his attire 

81 


82 


THE CAB AVAN. 


corresponded in elegance to the trappings of his 
steed. A white turban, richly embroidered with 
gold, adorned his head; his cloak and trousers 
were of deep red ; a curved sword, with a costly 
handle, hung by his side. His turban was drawn 
low over his face ; this and the black eyes which 
flashed forth from under bushy eyebrows, to- 
gether with his long beard and hooked nose, gave 
him a wild and dangerous appearance. 

When the rider was within about fifteen paces 
of the vanguard of the caravan, he struck spurs 
to his horse, and in a few seconds arrived at the 
head of the procession. How, to see a solitary 
rider in the desert is an unusual event, and the 
guards of the caravan, fearing a sudden attack, 
leveled their spears against him. 

“ What would you do ? ” cried the rider, as- 
tonished at being received in so hostile a manner. 
“ Do you think one single man would attack your 
caravan ? ” 

At this the guards were ashamed and swung 
down their spears, but their leader rode up to 
the stranger and asked him what he desired. 

“ Where is the master of the caravan ? ” asked 
the rider. 

“ ft does not belong to one master,” answered 
the guard, “but to several merchants who are 
traveling to their homes by way of Mecca. We 
are escorting them through the desert because 


THE CARAVAN. 


83 


here the wandering rabble often alarm and rob 
travelers.’’ 

“Well, conduct me to the merchants,” re- 
quested the stranger. 

“ That I cannot do yet,” returned the guard, 
“because we must go on without delay, and the 
merchants are, at least, a quarter of an hour fur- 
ther behind. If, however, you will ride on with 
me until we encamp for our mid-day rest, I will 
comply with your request.” 

To this the stranger made no reply. Instead, 
he unbound from his saddle a long pipe and as 
he rode on by the side of the leader of the 
guards, he sent out from this huge clouds of 
smoke. 

His companion knew not what to think of the 
stranger. While he did not directly ask him his 
name, he tried to open a conversation with him. 
But to all his remarks, such as, “You are smok- 
ing a very line tobacco ; ” or, “ Your steed has a 
noble step,” the stranger replied with a short 
“ Yes, yes.” 

At last they arrived at the place where they 
were to take their mid-day rest. The leader 
posted his men as sentinels, while he remained 
with the stranger until the caravan came up. 
Thirty camels, heavily laden, drew up first, led 
by armed guides. After these, mounted on four 


84 


THE CAE AVAN. 



TKe 


^ ® r j / fv \ePcKa.n 


horses, came the four merchants to whom the 
caravan belonged. 

All, excepting one, were men of advanced 
years, with grave, staid faces. This one ap- 
peared very much younger than the others. 

The procession was 
closed by a number 
of laden camels 
and pack-horses. 

Tents were at 
once pitched, and 
the camels and horses 
^ placed around in a cir- 
cle. In the middle of this 
circle there was a large tent 
Thither the chief guard con- 
ducted the stranger. As he passed through the 
curtain of the tent, he saw the four merchants 
seated on cushions embroidered with gold, and 
black slaves were offering them choice food and 
wines. 

“ Whom have you brought us ? ” cried the 
younger merchant. 

Before the guard could answer, the stranger 
made reply : “ My name is Selim Baruch, and I 
am from Bagdad. While on a journey to Mecca, 
I was taken prisoner by a gang of robbers. 
Three days ago I freed myself from my captivity 
by stealth. The great Prophet caused me to hear 


of blue silk stuff. 


THE CAB AVAN. 


85 


the bells of your caravan in the far distance, and 
that is how 1 have come hither. Allow me to 
travel in your company. In so doing you will 
bestow your protection on no unworthy object, 
and when you come to Bagdad I will amply repay 
your kindness ; for I am the nephew of the grand 
vizier.” 

The elder of the merchants hastened to reply. 

“ Selim Baruch,” said he, “ you are welcome to 
our shelter. It affords us great pleasure to serve 
you; but before all else, sit down and eat and 
drink with us.” 

So, accepting this kind invitation, Selim Baruch 
sat down by the merchants and partook of their 
refreshments. After the repast, the slaves 
removed the plates, and brought long pipes and 
Turkish sherbet. 

For a long time the merchants sat, gazing at 
the blue clouds of smoke as they curled around, 
dispersed, and finally vanished by degrees in the 
air. At length the younger merchant broke the 
silence. 

“ Thus for three days have we sat,” said he, 
“on horse and at table, without anything to help 
us pass away the time. It seems to me terribly 
tedious ; for I am accustomed after meals, to see 
dances or to hear songs and music. Do you 
know of anything, my friends, that would help 
to while away the time ? ” 



86 


THE CAB AVAN. 


The three elder merchants made no reply ; they 
seemed to be in deep thought. 

“ If you will allow me,” said the stranger, “ I 
will make a proposition. I suggest that at each 
encampment we relate some adventure or, per- 
haps, a fairy story. It might prove a source of 
much enjoyment.” 

“ Selim Baruch,” said Achmed, the elder mer- 
chant, “ I think we may well adopt your proposal.” 

“ It gratifies me exceedingly to know that my 
suggestion pleases you,” returned Selim. “And 
to show you that I desire nothing unfair, I my- 
self will make the beginning.” 

The merchants were well pleased. They 
formed a circle and invited the stranger to sit 
in the middle. 

The slaves refilled the goblets and replenished 
their masters’ pipes. Selim, refreshing himself 
with a generous draught of sherbet, parted the 
long beard from before his mouth, and said : 

“Now, then, hear the story of the Caliph 
Stork.” 


THE CAB AVAN. 


87 


THE CALIPH STORK. 



HASID, Caliph of Bagdad, was 
reclining on his sofa. It was a 
beautiful afternoon. He had 
slept awhile, for it was a sultry 
day ; and now, after his accus- 
tomed nap, he felt quite bright 
and merry. He smoked a long, 


rosewood pipe and every now and then he drank 
a little coffee handed to him by a slave. After 
each sip, he stroked his beard in a well-satisfied 
manner. 

In short, it was evident that the caliph was in 
a very good humor. This, then, was the season 
to visit him ; for at such times he was always in- 
dulgent and affable. For this reason, his grand 
vizier, Mansor, in making his daily calls chose 
this especial hour. 

On this afternoon, according to his custom, 
Mansor entered, but looking very thoughtful. 

The caliph, taking his pipe from his mouth, 
said, “ Why do you look so very serious, Grand 
vizier ? ” 

The grand vizier crossed his arms upon his 


88 


THE CARAVAN. 


fedctleP 


breast, bent the knee before- his master, and 
answered. “My lord, if I am looking serious, 
I did not know it ; but there is, at the further 
end of the castle, a peddler who has such beautiful 
wares that it vexes me because I have not more 
spare money.” 

The caliph was pleased to make a friend of his 
grand vizier, so he sent his black slave to bring 
the peddler to him. Very soon the slave 
returned with the peddler. The latter 
was a small, thick-set man, with an ex- 
ceedingly brown face, and in ragged 
attire. He carried a case, in which 
he had all manner of wares : pearls 
and rings, richly inlaid pistols, 
glasses and combs. The caliph and 
his vizier examined his merchan- 
dise. Finally the caliph bought 
handsome pistols for himself and 
Mansof, and a costly comb for Mans or’ s wife. 

As the peddler was replacing his wares, the 
caliph spied a small drawer, and asked if it con- 
tained anything which they had not seen. The 
peddler pulled out the drawer and disclosed to 
view a small snuff-box. It contained a black- 
looking powder and a paper, whereon were 
written strange words which neither the caliph 
nor Mansor could read. 

“ I bought this box and paper from a merchant, 



THE CARAVAN. 


89 


who found them on a street in Mecca/’ said 
the peddler. “I do not know what they contain. 
They are yours for any trifling price you may 
give. I can make no use of them.” 

The caliph was fond of collecting old manu- 
scripts for his library, even when he could not 
read them, so he bought the paper and the box, and 
the peddler went his way. The caliph thought, 
however, that he would like very much to know 
what the manuscript contained, and asked Mansor 
if he knew any one who could translate it. 

“ Most gracious lord and ruler,” answered the 
vizier, “ at the great mosque, there lives a man 
called Selim the Learned, who understands every 
language. Let him come ; perhaps he knows 
this mysterious tongue.” 

So the learned Selim was brought into the 
master’s presence. 

“ Selim,” began the caliph, “it is said that you 
are very learned ; study this writing a minute, 
aud see if you can read it. If you can, I will 
give you a new feast dress ; if you cannot, you 
shall receive twelve lashes on your back, and 
twenty-five on the soles of .your feet. Tor, if 
you fail, you have been wrongly called Selim 
the Learned.” 

Selim bent the knee. 

“ Thy will be done, my lord,” he answered. 

Tor a long time he studied the manuscript. 


90 


THE CAB AVAN. 


Suddenly he cried out: “By the beard of the 
Prophet, my lord, it is Latin.’ 7 

“ Then if it is Latin tell us what it means,” 
commanded the caliph. 

And Selim read: “Man, whosoever thou art, 
that findest this snuff-box, praise Allah for his 
favor. Herein is a marvel- 
ous thing. For whosoever 
shall inhale a pinch of the 
powder in this box and there- 
upon pronounce the one word 
‘Mutabor,’ can transform him- 
self into any animal, and also 
understand its language. If he 
wishes to be changed back into 
his human form, let him bow 
himself three times towards the 
east, and pronounce the same word. 

“But, beware, while thou art transformed, that 
thou dost not laugh ; else the magic word will 
vanish entirely out from thy mind, and thou wilt 
always remain an animal.” 

The caliph was well pleased with Selim’s 
ability to read the manuscript. He however 
exacted the promise that he would tell no one 
of the secret, gave him a beautiful robe and 
dismissed him. 

To his grand vizier he was more confiding: 
“ I call that a good purchase, Mansor ! How I 



THE CARAVAN. 


91 


enjoy the anticipation of being transformed! 
Early to-morrow come to me. We will then go 
together to the fields, snuff a little of the pow- 
der, and find out what is spoken in the air, the 
water and the fields.” 

The caliph had scarcely dressed and break- 
fasted, next morning, when the grand vizier came 
to him as he had commanded, to accompany him 
in his rambles. The caliph put the box contain- 
ing the magic powder in his girdle, and telling 
his attendants to remain behind, he and Mansor 
set off by themselves. 

They went first through the caliph’s great 
garden, where they searched in vain for some 
live thing, by which to prove the magic powder. 
The vizier at length proposed that they go in 
the vicinity of a pond, where he had often seen 
many birds. Among them were storks ; here 
was a biped thait had always attracted his atten- 
tion, because of its solemn demeanor and loud 
clacking. 

The caliph thought the vizier’s suggestion a 
very good one. When they reached the pond, 
they saw a stork walking demurely about in 
search of frogs and insects. They also spied 
another high up in the air, flying in the direc- 
tion of the pond. 

“ I will wager my beard, most gracious lord,” 
cried the vizier, “ that those two long legs will 


92 


THE CAB AVAN. 


hold a line discourse together. How would it do 
for us to become storks ? ” 

“ Well spoken/’ replied the caliph. “ But we 
must first consider how we can again become 
men. After bowing toward the east three times 
and saying ‘ Mutabor/ shall I again be caliph, and 
you vizier ? Only, by Heaven’s will — having 
not laughed ; otherwise we are lost.” 

As the caliph spoke the second stork hovered 
lower and lower about his head, and finally 
alighted on the ground. Quickly 
drawing 
the box 
from his 
girdle 
the caliph took a gen- 
erous pinch of the powder, 
^ 7 and offered it to his vizier. 
Following his master’s example, 
both cried in one voice, “ Mutabor ! ” 

The word was scarcely spoken before their 
legs began to shrivel up and become thin and 
red. Then their arms turned to wings, and their 
necks stretched out from the shoulders. Each 
was of an enormous length. Their beards van- 
ished, and their heads and bodies became cov- 
ered with soft feathers. 

“ Truly you have a very pretty beak, 0 Grand 
vizier,” the caliph remarked, gazing at his com- 



TME CAUP/V; 

great garden- 



THE CAB AVAN. 


93 


panion. “ By the beard of the Prophet, I have 
never seen so wonderful a transformation.” 

“ My humble thanks,” returned the grand vizier. 
“ And, if I may venture a remark, your Highness 
appears even more beautiful as a stork than as a 
caliph. But if it is your pleasure, I would like 
to join our comrades and learn if we can under- 
stand the true stork language.” 

By this time the second stork had pruned his 
feathers, and gone to meet his mate. So the 
two new ones hastened toward them. What was 
their astonishment to hear the second stork 
say: — 

“ Good morning, Mrs. Longlegs ; out on the 
meadow so early ? ” 

“ Yes, dear Clapping-beak, I have caught my- 
self quite a breakfast. Would you relish a little 
piece of bird, or, perhaps, a frog’s leg ? ” 

“ Many thanks ; but I have no appetite this 
morning. Besides, I am here on the meadow 
for quite another purpose. I dance before my 
father’s guests, and will take refreshments 
there.” 

And the young stork strode off through the 
fields with a ridiculously odd motion. The 
caliph and Mansor watched her with surprise. 
She stood on one foot in a most picturesque 
posture, and fanned herself gracefully with her 
wings. The caliph and the vizier were greatly 


94 


THE CAB A VAN. 


amused. They laughed long and loud. Indeed 
they seemed quite incapable of checking their 
mirth. 

The caliph however was the first to recover 
himself. 

“ That was, indeed, pastime,” he cried ; “ a 
pastime not to be bought with gold. Oh ! what 
a pity that the silly birds have allowed them- 
selves to be frightened away by our laughter. 
If not they surely would have sung ! ” 

But no sooner had he said this than the truth 
flashed across the mind of the vizier. They 
were forbidden to laugh during their transmuta- 
tion. He confided his fear to his master. 

“ By Mecca and Medina ! ” exclaimed the 
caliph. “ Then was it sorry sport if I must re- 
main a stork ! Think ! what is the magic word ? 
I cannot recall it.” 

“ Three times we must bow towards the east,” 
said the vizier, “and thereupon say — Mu-mu- 
mu ” — 

They turned toward the east and bowed so 
low that their, beaks nearly touched the ground. 
But, alas ! the magic word had fled. As often 
as the caliph bowed himself his vizier cried out 
“ Mu-mu ” — But the magic word “ Mutabor ” 
refused to cross his lips. So poor Chasid and 
his grand vizier Mansor were obliged to retain 
their stork forms. 


THE CARAVAN. 


95 


What to do they did not know. In great dis- 
tress the enchanted ones wandered through the 
fields. They could not go back to the city. For 
if they made themselves known, no one would 
believe their story. The inhabitants of Bagdad 
have a stork to rule over them ? Never ! 

For many days they moved slowly about, and 
fed themselves scantily with wild fruits. On 
account of their long bills they could 
not eat without difficulty. Eider ducks 
and frogs they shunned. Such tidbits 
they were afraid 
would injure their 
digestion. One com- 
fort only remained; 
they could fly. So 
they often went to 
the roofs of Bagdad 
to learn what was 
happening there. 

On the first day 
they witnessed a 
great commotion in 
the streets. The fourth day of their enchant- 
ment, as they sat on the roof of the caliph’s 
palace, they saw a magnificent parade. The 
music of drums and fifes filled the air; there 
was great display and show. Upon an elegantly 
equipped steed, surrounded by gorgeously attired 



96 


THE CAB AVAN. 


servants sat a man clad in a gold-embroidered, 
scarlet mantle. Half of Bagdad seemed to follow 
him. Presently the shout arose, “ Long live 
Mirza, caliph of Bagdad ! ” 

The storks exchanged glances. “ Ah ! now I 
know why I have been transformed,” said 
the caliph. “ Listen. This Mirza is the son 
of my deadly enemy, Kaschnur, the mighty en- 
chanter. In an evil hour he swore vengeance 
against me. Yet I do not despair. Come, thou 
faithful companion of my misfortune, let us 
travel to the great Prophet’s grave. At such a 
holy place, perchance the magic spell will dis- 
solve.” 

So they at once rose up from the palace-roof 
and flew in the direction of Medina. But flying 
proved not such an easy mode of travel, after all. 
For neither of the storks were skilled in the 
practice of that art. 

“Oh! my lord, I cannot hold out longer,” 
exclaimed the grand vizier with a sigh, after 
two hours of travel. “Your Majesty flies too 
rapidly. And see; it is growing dark. Had 
not we better seek a place of shelter for the 
night ? ” 

Chasid respected his companion’s request, and 
spying a little way down the valley a ruin which 
no doubt would give them shelter, they flew 
thither. 


THE CAB AVAN. 


97 


They alighted on what seemed once to have 
been a castle. Beautiful columns jutted out 
from under the ruins ; there were apartments in 
a perfect state of preservation j all 
seemed to testify to the former mag- 
nificence of the edifice. Chasid and 
the vizier went through the corridors 
in search of the best shelter the place 
afforded. Suddenly the stork Mansor 
stopped. “ My lord and ruler,” he said 
in a whisper, “ to be afraid of ghosts 
is foolish for a grand vizier, still more 
so for a stork ! Yet, truly, I am alar 
right beside us I heard an audible groan and 
sigh.” 

The caliph stood quite still and listened atten- 
tively. Distinctly there came the sound of a 
low wailing. Without waiting longer he started 
in the direction whence the plaintive tones pro- 
ceeded. But the vizier seizing him by the wing 
with his beak, besought him not to plunge him- 
self into some new and unknown danger. But 
all in vain. 

Under the caliph’s stork-wings beat a fearless 
heart. He tore himself from the vizier’s grasp 
with the loss of a few feathers, and hastened on 
through a dark corridor. He soon arrived at a 
door, which seemed only to lean against the door- 
way behind which he distinctly heard groans and 



98 


THE CARAVAN. 


cries. He thrust back the door with his beak, 
but stopped rather quickly upon the threshold. 

He had come upon the ruins of an apartment 
dimly lighted by a small lattice window. On 
the ground he saw an immense owl. Tears were 
falling from its great round eyes, and with ve- 
hement voice it poured forth its complaints. 
But upon seeing the caliph and his vizier — for 
the faithful Mansor had followed his master — 
it raised a loud cry of joy. Quickly wiping 
away the tears with its spotted brown wings, to 
the astonishment of both, it cried out in good 
Arabic, “ Welcome to you, 
storks ; you are an omen 
of my rescue. It was 
once prophesied that 
some great happi- 
ness should come 
to me through 
storks.” 

Recovering 
from his sur- 
prise, the caliph 
made a bow with 
his long neck, brought 
his feet into a more ele- 
gant position, and said : “Owl, after your words, 
I must believe that I see in you a companion 
in adversity. But alas ! your hope, that we can 



THE CARAVAN. 


99 


rescue you, is vain. You will yourself recognize 
our helplessness if you hear our story/’ And 
the caliph at once related their sad adventure. 

When he had finished, the owl thanked him 
and said, “ Now listen to my story, for I am not 
less unfortunate than you. 

“ My father is the king of India. I, his only 
and unhappy daughter, am named Lusa. The 
magician Kaschnur who transformed you, has 
also plunged me into greater misfortune. 

“ He came one day to my father and demanded 
my hand in marriage for his son Mirza. My 
father who is a quick-tempered man, threw him 
down the steps. The wretch knew that if he 
ever met me again it must be in another form ; 
so, as I was walking in my garden, he, dressed 
as a slave, offered me a drink which changed me 
into this detestable shape. While overcome 
with horror he brought me to this place, and 
cried in my ears with a tremendous voice, ‘ Here 
shall you remain, ugly, despised by even the 
beasts, until you die ; or until some one of his 
own free will, takes you in this hideous shape to 
be his wife. Thus have I avenged myself on 
you and your proud father/ 

“ That was many months ago. Alone and sad 
I live here like a hermit. I am cut off from the 
world, and am indeed a terror to the very beasts ! 
Beautiful nature is lost to me ; for I am blind in 


100 


THE CAE A VAN. 


the clay; only when the moon pours its pale 
light over these buildings does the dense veil 
fall from my eyes.” 

Having finished her story the owl again wiped 
her eyes with her wings. The recital of her 


sorrows made her grief even 
more intense. 



The caliph was greatly excited 
by the princess’ narrative. 


“ If I am not mistaken,” he 
said, “ I detect a striking simi- 
larity in our misfortunes ; but 
where am I to -look for the key 
to this riddle ? ” 


The owl replied, “My lord, I also have the 
same presentiment. For in my earliest youth it 
was prophesied by a wise woman that a stork 
would bring me some great good luck. I think 
I know how we can save ourselves.” 

The caliph w r as astonished at this and asked 
her to explain her meaning. 

“ The magician who has made us both un- 
happy,” replied the owl, “comes once every 
month to these ruins. Not far from this apart- 
ment there is a banquet hall. Here he is joined 
by many of his companions who meet to feast, 
and tell each other of their shameful deeds. I 
have often watched them there. Perhaps in that 


THE CARAVAN. 


101 


room he may speak the magic word that you 
have forgotten.” 

“ Oh ! dearest princess,” exclaimed the caliph, 
“ When does he come ; where is the banquet hall ? 
Tell me, I pray you.” 

The owl was silent for a moment. Then she 
said, “ Take it not unkindly ; but only on one 
condition can I fulfill your wish.” 

“ Speak out ! speak out ! ” cried Chasid. 
“ You have but to command, and I will obey.” 

“I too am anxious to be released,” said the 
owl ; “ but that cannot be unless one of you will 
consent to marry me.” 

The storks were greatly embarrassed at this 
proposal. The caliph drew away from the owl 
and motioned his companion to follow him. 

“ Grand vizier,” he said, when they were out- 
side the owl’s door, “this is a stupid affair; but 
you can easily take her.” 

“ So easily,” answered the vizier, “ that when 
I went home, my wife would scratch my eyes 
out. Besides, I am an old man. You are young 
and unmarried. Here is an opportunity to give 
your hand to a beautiful young princess.” 

“ Yes,” sighed the caliph, drooping his wings 
sadly. “But who told you that she is young 
and pretty? This is what is called buying a 
cat in a bag ! ” 

They talked for some time. The caliph found 


102 


THE CAB AVAN. 


that his vizier would rather remain a stork, than 
marry the owl, so he decided to fulfill the condi- 
tion himself. 

The owl was delighted. She told them that 
they could not have come at a better time. For, 
without doubt, the magicians would 
assemble that very night. So she set 
out to guide the storks to the banquet 
hall. It took them a long time 
to go through the dark passage, but 
at last a bright stone, in a half 
broken down wall, cast forth its 
rays. Arrived at this point, the 
owl advised them 
to keep perfectly 
still. 

]^0 you T\ot From the gap m 

■ 1 ? 



Vow OW 


which they 
stood they 
could over- 
look a large room. It was beautifully 
furnished. Many colored lamps burned 
on its walls; these supplied the light of day. 
In the center of the room, stood a round table 
covered with choice food. Couches were drawn 
around the table, and on these couches reclined 
eight men. 

The storks recognized in one of these the 
peddler who had sold them the magic powder. 


THE CAB AVAN. 


103 


When asked to tell the company of his latest 
deeds, the peddler at once related, among others, 
the story of the caliph and his vizier. 

“ What magic word have you given them ? ” 
asked one of the magicians. 

“A right difficult Latin word,” replied the 
peddler ; “ it is pronounced Mutabor.” 

Upon hearing this the storks were nearly be- 
side themselves with joy. They turned, and ran 
so quickly toward the entrance of the ruin, that 
the owl could scarcely follow them. 

When he had reached the door, the caliph ex- 
claimed, “ Rescuer of my life, and the life of my 
friend, as an everlasting token of gratitude for 
what you have done for us, receive me, as your 
husband.” Then he turned towards the east. 

Three times the storks bowed their long necks 
towards the sun which had just risen from be- 
hind the mountains. “ Mutabor ! ” they cried. 
In a trice, they were changed. For some time 
both caliph and vizier laughed and wept in each 
other’s arms. Their joy seemed to know no bounds. 

But who shall describe their amazement when 
at length they turned around ! A beautiful 
lady, richly attired, stood before them. Blush- 
ing charmingly she gave her hand to the caliph. 
“Do you not know your owl ?” she asked. For 
it was indeed the owl, re-transformed into the 
princess. 


104 


THE CARAVAN. 


The caliph’s eyes were dazzled by her beauty 
and grace. “ It is the greatest good fortune of 
my life that I was transformed into a stork/’ he 
cried. 

The three at once set off together on their 
journey to Bagdad. In the pockets of his clothes 
the caliph found not only the box of magic pow- 
der, but his purse as well. And, at the nearest 
village, he purchased whatever was needed for 
their journey. Making no unnecessary delay 
they soon arrived at the gates of Bagdad. 

The return of the caliph was cause for great 
rejoicing, for he had been given up as dead. 
And when the people were told the cause of 
their beloved ruler’s absence, their hearts burned 
with hatred against the impostor Mirza. They 
hastened to the palace, and took the old en- 
chanter and his son prisoners. By order of the 
caliph, Kaschnur the magician was sent to the 
ruined castle. The apartment in which the prin- 
cess was confined while an owl, was assigned to 
him. And in that very room he was hung. 

With the son, Mirza, however, the caliph dealt 
more kindly. His father’s arts were unknown to 
hjm, so he was allowed the choice either of death, 
or of snuffing the magic powder. The son chose 
the latter. The box was given him by the grand 
vizier. He inhaled one good, generous pinch, 
and at the caliph’s magic word, he was changed 


THE CAB AVAN. 


105 


into a stork. After the transformation the caliph 
had him confined in an iron cage, and ordered 
the cage to be placed in his garden. 

Caliph Chasid lived long and happily with his 
beautiful wife, the Princess Lusa. The after- 
noon hours were his pleasantest ones. The 
grand vizier always visited him then, and they 
never tired of recounting their stork adventure. 
If the caliph was in a particularly good humor, 
he would try to imitate the movements of a 
stork. 

His personations were very amusing, as with 
stiffened legs and arms extended to represent 
wings, he would make an effort to fly. But the 
most ludicrous part was when he bowed towards 
the east, at the same time crying “Mu — M — u.” 

To the princess and her children, this repre- 
sentation was ever a fresh delight. If, however, 
the caliph continued his personations beyond a 
certain limit the vizier always threatened to tell 
the Princess Lusa what happened outside the 
owl’s door. 

When Selim Baruch had finished his story 
the merchants declared themselves well pleased. 
“Truly, the afternoon has passed without our 
perceiving it ! ” said one, drawing aside the tent . 
cover. “ The evening wind is blowing cool and 
we can proceed on our journey.” His companions 


106 


THE CAB AVAN. 


agreeing, the tents were taken down, and the 
caravan was soon on its way again. 

They rode nearly all night. During the day 
the heat on the desert is oppressive, but the 
nights are refreshing. At length, coming to a 
comfortable place of encampment, they pitched 
the tents, and each sought the rest he so much 
needed. The merchants extended to'the stran- 
ger every kindness. Had he been an invited 
guest they could not have proffered greater hos- 
pitality. 

The heat was so intense next morning upon 
arising that, after consulting together, they 
thought best to remain where they were during 
the day. After finishing their morning repast, 
they drew closer together again. The younger 
merchant, turning to Achmet, the oldest, said, 
“ Selim Baruch made us spend a very pleasant 
afternoon yesterday. Will not you relate one of 
your many interesting adventures, or some good 
fairy tale ? ” 

Achmet considered a moment. Finally he said, 
“Dear friends, you have proved yourselves faith- 
ful companions, on this our journey, and Selim, 
also, I feel, deserves my confidence ; therefore,- 
I will relate to you an adventure from my own 
life — one that I would not tell before everybody/’ 

So saying, he told “The Story of the Haunted 
Ship.” 


THE CAB AVAN. 


107 


THE HAUNTED SHIP. 


Y father owned a little 
store in Balsora. He was 
neither poor, nor rich ; 
but was one of those 
kind of people who do 
not like to venture very 
far, for fear of losing the little already obtained. 

He educated me plainly and strictly. So 
thorough was he in my instruction that I was 
enabled at an early age to help him in his busi- 
ness. 

Just as I had reached my eighteenth year, and 
he had made his first large speculation, he died; 
probably of regret for having trusted goods, 
worth a thousand gold pieces, on the sea. I had, 
soon after, to consider him happier in death; 
for in a few weeks the news reached us that 
the ship, to which my father had entrusted his 
goods, had been lost. 

My youthful spirits, however, were not de- 
pressed by this misfortune. Without loss of 
time I turned into money everything that my 



THE CAB AVAN. 


iOS 


father had left. Then I went out into the world 
to seek my fortune. I was accompanied by Ibra- 
him, one of my father’s old servants, who refused 
to be separated from me and my destiny. 

We set sail from the harbor of Balsora with a 
favorable wind. The ship, on which I had taken 
passage, was bound for India. 

When we had traveled about fifteen days on 
the usual route, the captain predicted a storm. 
His manner was very serious ; for his knowledge 
of the channel was not sufficient to enable him 
to meet a storm with safety. He at once ordered 
the sails to be furled, and for a long time we 
were carried along by the force of the current. 

The night came on clear and cold, and the cap- 
tain began to think that he had been mistaken 
in his calculation. But all at once, a ship which 
we had not seen before, passed close by us. 
Wild shouts of exultation arose from her deck. 
I was somewhat surprised to hear such sounds 
of revelry, and especially in those anxious hours 
before the storm. The captain who was stand- 
ing beside me, turned deathly pale. “We are 
lost,” he cried; “yonder sails the Death Ship!” 

Before I had time to ask him what he meant 
by this extraordinary remark, the sailors came 
running towards us, wild with affright. “ Have 
you seen it — the Death Ship ? ” they asked. 
“It has just passed by us-!” 


THE CAE AVAN. 


109 


Words of comfort were read from the Koran, 
and the captain himself took the helm. But 
alas ! it was all in vain. The storm began to 
rage in all its fury ; within an hour the ship 
had sprang aleak; we were fast sinking. The 
life-boats were quickly let down, and scarcely 
had the last sailor left the ship when she sank 
entirely out of sight. I was a beggar, in a little 
boat, out on the great, wide sea. But the worst 
was yet to come. 

The storm continued to rage, and the little 
boat became unmanageable. I clung to my old 
servant and we promised never to leave each 
other, come what would. 

At last daylight appeared ; but, with the first 
gleam of dawn, a sudden gust of wind struck 
our boat, and capsized it. I have never seen any 
of the ship’s crew since that night. 

Bor the moment, I was stunned. The unex- 
pected blow completely overpowered me. When 
however I recovered from the shock, I found 
myself in the arms of my faithful old servant. 
Having freed himself from the overturned boat, 
he had managed to support me as well as him- 
self above the waves. 

By this time the storm had abated. Nothing 
was to be seen of our ship, but we clearly dis- 
cerned, not far off, another, which the waves 
were driving towards us. As she came nearer I 


110 


THE CARAVAN. 


had no difficulty in recognizing the craft. It 
was the same ship that passed so close to us the 
night before. The one that threw the captain 
into such a terror. At the sight of this vessel 
I felt a mighty fear creep over me. The cap- 
tain’s exclamation of dread and horror, which 
had been so fearfully fulfilled, and the deserted 
appearance of the ship, terrified me. Yet we 
had no other hope of rescue. So we called out 
loudly for help. But, although we came near to 
the ship, and repeated our cries, no one appeared 
on deck ; no one answered our call. 

From the prow of the ship, and a little to one 
side, a long rope was let down into the water. 
We swam toward the rope with all our strength, 
and at last succeeded in grasping it. I called 
out loudly, but all was silence on board the 
ship. 

By means of this rope we climbed aboard. 
Being the younger and more active I reached 
the deck first. Oh ! horror ! what a sight met 
my gaze. The floor of the deck was red with 
blood and about it lay twenty or thirty dead 
bodies in Turkish attire. At the mast stood a 
man richly dressed. His saber was in his hand; 
his face was pale and distorted. A large nail, 
driven through his forehead, fastened the dead 
man to the mast. 

Fear chained my feet to the ground. I scarcely 


THE GABAVAN. 


Ill 



dared to breathe. When Ibrahim reached the 
deck, he was equally horrified. 

Finally we ventured to go further in 
the ship, having, in the agony of our 
minds, implored the great Prophet’s pro- 
tection. At every step we looked about 
us to assure ourselves that no living 
person had escaped our notice. 

Save myself and servant there was no 
living human being within reach. We 
were alone on the great sea. We reached 
the cabin steps. Here we stopped in- 
voluntarily, and looked at each other; 
neither dared to utter his thoughts. 

“ 0, master ! ” my faithful servant 
found voice to say after a long silence, 
“something terrible has happened here. 

Yet even if the ship’s hold is full of 
murderers, I would rather trust myself 
to their favor or displeasure, than to 
pass another moment among these dead 
men.” And I fully agreed with him. 

So we took heart, and descended the " 
steps, though in fear and trembling , X." 
as to what fate awaited us there. 

Everywhere was death-like silence. When 
we reached the first cabin door, I put my 
ear to the key hole and listened. No sound was to 
be heard. I opened the door and looked in. The 


V 


112 


THE CAB AVAN. 


room presented a very disorderly appearance. 
Coats, weapons, and a variety of tools, were 
scattered about in wild confusion. Nothing was 
in its place. The crew, or at least the captain, 
must, only a little while before, have been drink- 
ing ; for wine was spilt over everything. 

We went from room to room, and from cabin 
to cabin. Everywhere we found great quantities 
of silks, pearls, and sugar ; and all of the most 
costly kind. At first I was in an ecstasy of de- 
light ; for I thought if there was no living man 
on the ship except myself and servant, all these 
valuables would belong to me. But Ibrahim 
said, that in all probability we were many miles 
from land, and even if we were not, we could not 
manage the ship without help. 

After refreshing ourselves with the food and 
wines, which we found in abundance in the 
cabins, we again ascended to the upper deck. 
But at the sight of so many dead men we shud- 
dered. We therefore determined to rid our- 
selves of them by throwing them overboard. 
But our courage failed us, indeed, when we found 
that none of them could be moved from his 
resting-place. 

They lay on the floor as if spell-bound. To 
remove them we would have been obliged to 
take up the planks of the deck, and we had not 
the proper tools for such a work. We could 


THE CAR A VAX. 


113 


neither loosen the captain from the mast, nor 
disengage the sword from his stiff hand. 

We spent the day in sad reflections upon our 
situation. When night came on, I allowed old 
Ibrahim to lie down and sleep, while I kept 
watch on deck. For I hoped during the night 
hours to spy out a friendly sail. 

When, however, the moon came out, and I 
calculated by the stars, that it was nearly the 
first hour, an irresistible sleep overpowered me. 
Involuntarily I fell backwards, and dropped be- 
hind a cask that stood on the deck. But, after 
all, it was more of a stunned feeling than sleep. 
I could hear distinctly the waves beating against 
the side of the ship, the wind rattling and whist- 
ling in the sails. All at once I thought I detected 
the sound of voices ; then the tread of men’s steps 
was to be heard. I tried to raise myself, that I 
might better tell from whence the noise proceeded. 
But an invisible power held me firmly down. I 
could not even open my eyes. The voices grew 
more and more distinct. They sounded as if a 
jolly crew were running about the deck. Among 
them, I thought I heard the powerful voice of a 
commander. There came also sounds as of the 
hoisting and lowering of sails. By degrees, how- 
ever, I lost consciousness, and fell into a deep 
sleep. During this stupor I was sure that I 
heard a great clashing of weapons. 


114 


THE GAB AVAN. 


When I awoke, the sun was high in the 
heavens, and shining full in my face. At first, 
I was amazed. Then the recollection of the 
storm, the ship, the dead men, and what I had 
heard during the night, rushed before my mind 
with vivid remembrance. Upon looking around, 
I saw that everything remained the same as it 
had been the day before. The dead men lay 
there undisturbed, the captain still stood fastened 
to the mast. I laughed at my dream, and started 
off in search of my old servant. 

I found him in the first cabin, looking very 
much dejected. “0, master!” he cried out at 
sight of me, “I would rather be lying at the 
bottom of the sea, than to pass another night in 
this bewitched ship.” Upon inquiring the cause 
of his fright, he said, “ When I had slept a few 
hours, I awoke, and heard a sound as of men 
running to and fro over my head. At first I 
thought it must be you, but there were at least 
twenty running about; moreover, I heard cries 
and whoops. At last, heavy steps came down the 
stairs. After that I knew little more ; for only 
now and then, for a few seconds at a time, did I 
have the use of my senses. But in those seconds 
I saw the same man who was nailed to the mast 
sitting at that table, singing and drinking. The 
man in a scarlet cloak, who lay on the floor near 
the mast, sat next to him, and drank with him.” 


THE CARAVAN. 


115 


You can well imagine, my friends, the horror 
and alarm I felt after listening to old Ibrahim’s 
adventures of the night. My imaginations then 
were no delusion ; I had heard the steps and 
voices of the dead men. The thought of travel- 
ing in such company was not a pleasant one. 

Upon finishing, old Ibrahim was lost in 
thought. “ Ah, I have it now ! ” he cried at 
length, and began repeating a verse that he had 
learned from his grandfather. This old man 
had been both wise and experienced; he had 
likewise been a great 


U 


* i D r& him 
Writer the n^me. 
^ of the 


traveler. This verse, 

Ibrahim said, would, if 
repeated, ward off 
any ghost or pro- 
tect us from the 
wiles of the en- 
chanter. He also 
asserted that the 
unnatural sleep 
which had over- 
powered us during 
the night, could be averted 
if we prayed zealously 
from the Koran. 

This suggestion of my companion consoled me, 
for it was in anxious expectation that we saw 
the night approaching. 



ket 



116 


THE CAB AVAN. 


Opening into the cabin was a small closet. 
And there we determined to conceal ourselves. 
We bored holes in the door sufficiently large to 
obtain a view of the entire cabin, then we fas- 
tened the door as securely as we could on the 
inside, after which Ibrahim wrote the name 
of the Prophet in each of the four corners. 
Thus in terror we awaited the coming of the 
night. 

About eleven o’clock a feeling of irresistible 
drowsiness crept over me. By the advice of 
Ibrahim I prayed earnestly from the Koran. 
And as if in answer to my prayer the inclination 
to sleep seemed to leave me. 

All at once everything seemed to be alive and 
active overhead. The ropes creaked, steps went 
to and fro on the deck, and voices could be dis- 
tinctly heard. We listened for some time in an 
agony of suspense. Finally we heard steps 
coming down the cabin stairs. Ibrahim began 
at once to repeat the verse his grandfather 
had taught him as a charm against ghosts and 
magicians : 

“ Come ye from the highest air, 

Or from depths of grim despair ; 

Come ye out from death’s last sleep, 

Or did ve all from fire leap — 

Allah is your Lord and King, 

To him ye must obedience bring.” 


THE CAE A VAN. 


11 7 


I am free to confess that I had very little 
faith in the power of this verse ; and when the 
cabin door flew open my hair actually stood on 
end. In walked the large, powerful-looking man 
whom I had seen nailed to the mast. The nail 
was still driven through the middle of his fore- 
head, but he had his saber by his side. 

Behind the captain came another man. He 
was clothed in costly apparel. I recognized in 
him one of the dead men I had seen lying on the 
deck. The captain (for such undoubtedly must 
have been his rank) had a pale face, a long black 
beard, and wild, restles eyes, which seemed to 
survey the cabin critically. I could see his face 
quite distinctly as he looked toward the door of 
the closet in which we were hidden. Apparently 
he did not suspect that there was anything wrong 
about the closet door. 

Both men sat down at the table, which stood 
in the middle of the cabin. Each spoke in an 
unknown language, and in a loud tone of voice. 
As their conversation continued their voices be- 
came still louder and more eager, until at last the 
captain brought his clinched fist down on the 
table with a blow that shook the whole cabin. 

With wild laughter his companion sprang up, 
and beckoned the captain to follow him. The 
latter arose, drew his saber from his side, and 
the two left the cabin together. 


118 


THE CAB AVAN. 


We breathed more freely when they had gone. 
But our fear was not at an end, however ; louder 
and louder grew the noise on deck. We could 
hear men running to and fro, screaming, laugh- 
ing, and whooping. At length there came an 
alarm so terrific that we thought the deck 
with all the sails was coming down upon us. 
It was followed by clashing of weapons and 
screams; then followed a sudden and deep 
stillness. 

After remaining for some hours in the closet, 
we ascended to the deck. Everything was just 
as we had left it. Not a man had changed his 
position. 

And thus we passed many days on the ship. 
Her course was always due east, in which direc- 
tion, by my calculation, the land was not far off. 
But although the ship went forward for many 
miles during the day, she seemed at night to go 
backward the same distance ; for we always 
found ourselves in the same place when the sun 
arose. This we could not explain unless the 
dead men each night sailed the ship back in a 
full wind. To prevent this happening again, 
we took in all sail before the night came on, 
and employed the same means for securing them 
as we had used on the closet door. We wrote 
the name of the Prophet, and also old Ibrahim’s 
verse, on parchment, and bound it around the 


THE CAB AVAN. 


119 


lowered sails. Then we waited anxiously in our 
little closet for the result. 

That night the phantom crew seemed to rage 
more furiously than ever, but in the morning we 
found the sails just as we had left them. From 
that time, during each day we hoisted as much 
sail as was necessary to run the ship smoothly, 
and each night we rebound the sails with the 
parchment. At the end of five days we had 
traveled a considerable distance forward. 

On the morning of the sixth day we descried 
in the distance a small stretch of land, and we 
hastened to thank Allah and his Prophet for our 
wonderful rescue. This day and the night fol- 
lowing, we steered the ship towards the coast. 
On the seventh morning 
we were rewarded by i^oiWrecf 
sight of a city on the dis- 
tant land. Immediately 
we cast anchor, and to 
our great joy found that it 
touched bottom. At once we low- 
ered a small boat which stood 
on the deck, and rowed with all 
our strength towards the city. 

A half-hour’s steady pull brought us into a 
river which emptied into the ocean, and from this 
point we steered straight for the shore. Arriving 
at the city gate, we learned, upon making in- 



120 


THE CARAVAN. 



quiries, that we were in India — not far from 
the place to which was bound the ship in which 
I had taken passage at Bagdad. 

We went at once to a caravansary ; for we 
had need of refreshment after our adventurous 
/Avlex j° urne y* There I inquired where I 
/g\J could find a wise and learned man. 
I also gave the host to understand 
that I would like to see one who was 
somewhat versed in the art of magic. 
He directed me to a plain-looking, un- 
pretentious house, in a retired street, and told 
me to ask for Muley. 

As I entered the house, I was met by a little 
old man with a white beard and long nose. He 
asked me what I wished. I told him that I 
wanted to see the wise Muley. He informed me 
that he was the one I sought. Straightway I 
told him my story, and asked him to advise me 
as to what I should do with the dead men and 
what means I should employ to get them off the 
ship. 

The old man went on to say that the people 


on board the ship, owing to some crime or out- 
rage which they had committed on the sea, had 
probably been bewitched. Were they brought to 
land he believed the enchantment would be 
broken. This, however, could not be done, unless 
the planks on which they lay were taken up. 


THE CARAVAN. 


121 


“ By all justice and right,” thought I, “ the 
ship, and all the goods on it, belong to me ; I 
have, as it were, found it. Therefore, I shall 
keep the story quite secret. I will give Muley 
a little present, out of my abundance, and he, 
with his slaves, will help me to dispose of the 
dead men.” Accordingly, I promised Muley to 
reward him handsomely if he would assist me. 
This he agreed to do, and we at once set out 
upon our way towards the coast. Five slaves 
accompanied us. They carried saws, axes and 
whatever else might be required in the work we 
were to undertake. 

The wise Muley could not say enough in praise 
of our fortunate thought. The binding of the 
sails with the verse and the Prophet's name was, 
he said, the only means by which we could have 
been saved. 

It was quite early in the day when we reached 
the side of the ship. We all set to work with a 
will, and in an hour’s time four of the dead men 
lay in our little boat. One of the slaves rowed 
back to land, for the purpose of interring the 
bodies. But upon returning he told us that the 
dead men had spared him the trouble ; for as 
soon as he had laid them on the ground, they 
crumbled to dust. 

We went steadily on sawing the planks and 
sending the bodies to land. Before night all 


122 


THE CAB A VAJST. 


had been taken up. There was no one left on 
board except the man who was nailed to the 
mast. We tried to draw the nail out of the 
wood, but all in vain ; no force could move it a 
hair’s breadth. What to do I did not know. 
We could not cut down the whole mast to bring 
him to land. But Muley’s knowledge came to 
our aid. He told one of his slaves to row to 
land, and bring a pot of earth. 

When the slave returned, Muley spoke some 
magic words, and sprinkled the earth on the 
dead man’s head. Immediately his eyes opened. 
He took a deep breath, and the wound of the 
nail in his forehead began to bleed. We drew 
the nail gently out, and he at once fell into the 
arms of one of the slaves. 

“ Who has done this for me ? ” he asked, 
seeming to have recovered a little. Muley 
pointed to me. I came forward. 

“ Many thanks to you, unknown stranger,” said 
the captain, “you have saved me from a long- 
continued torture. For fifteen years my body 
has been on this ship, sailing over the waters; 
and my spirit was condemned to return each 
night to my body. But now that my head has 
been touched by earth, I can go to rest with my 
fathers.” I begged him to tell us the cause of 
all this, and he spoke as follows : 

“Fifteen years ago I was a powerful and 


THE CARAVAN. 


123 


highly esteemed man, and lived in Algiers. The 
desire for gain led me to fit out a ship and 
become a pirate. I had been engaged in this 
pursuit for quite a while, when, once, among my 
other plunder, I took a dervis on board, very 
much against his will. 

“ I and my companions were rough men, and 
we did not regard the holy 
office of the man. On the 
contrary, I made jest of him. 

“ One day he, in right- 
eous anger, reproved me 
for my sinful way of 
living. That night, after 
I had been drinking very 
freely with my first mate, 
my anger mounted higher 
and higher within me, at 

the recollection of what the dervis had said to 
me. I would never have allowed even a sultan 
to speak so to me. 

“My anger increasing, I rushed up to the 
deck, and thrust my dagger into the dervis’ heart. 
As he was dying, he wished that I and my crew 
should not be able to die, or live, until our heads 



were laid on the earth. Then he died. 

“ We threw his body into the sea, and laughed 
at his curse. But that same night his wish was 
fulfilled. Part of my crew revolted against me. 


124 


THE CAB AVAN. 


A most furious struggle followed, until all on my 
side were killed, and I was nailed to the mast. 
But all the mutineers also died of their wounds, 
and soon my ship was naught but a huge 
grave. 

“ My eyes were set, my breathing stopped, and 
I thought I was dying ; but it was only a kind of 
torpid state into which I had fallen. 

“ The next night, at the same hour in which 
we had thrown the dervis into the sea, I and all 
my companions awoke from the stupor. Life 
returned to us ; but we could do and say nothing 
except what had been said and done the night 
before. 

“ Thus we have sailed for fifteen years ; not 
able to live, not able to die. For how could we 
reach the land ? With frantic pleasure we 
always sailed in the storms, with full sails ; be- 
cause we hoped at last, the ship would be dashed 
to pieces on a rock, and that we could then lay 
down our weary heads in rest, at the bottom of 
the sea. Our efforts did not succeed, but now, I 
will die. Yet once more I thank you, my un- 
known rescuer ; and if riches can repay you, 
receive my ship and cargo, as a token of my 
gratitude.” 

When the captain had thus spoken, he bowed 
his head and expired. His body, like those of 
his companions, instantly crumbled into dust. 


THE CAB A VAN. 


125 


We gathered up the dust, put it in a little chest, 
and buried it on land. 

I employed some workmen from the city, who 
put my ship in good repair. After I had ex- 
changed the goods which I found on board with 
the merchants of the city to my great advantage, 
I hired sailors, paid my friend Muley hand- 
somely, and shipped for my native land. I took, 
however, a roundabout course, and stopped at 
many islands, and seaports, and brought my 
goods to market. The Prophet blessed and 
prospered my enterprise. 

In nine months I reached Balsora. I was now 
twice as rich as the dead captain had made me. 
My fellow-townsmen were aston- 



ished at my 
riches and 


good-fortune. 
They would 
believe noth- 
ing else but 


that I had found 


the diamond- valley " 

of the celebrated traveler Sinbad. I left them 
in their belief. From that time on, all the 
young people of Balsora, before they were 
eighteen years old, wanted to go out in the world, 
like me, to make their fortunes. 

I now live in peace and happiness. Every five 


12 G 


THE CARAVAN. 


years I make a journey to Mecca, to offer my 
thanks and praise to Allah, in that holy place, 
for the great blessings he has been pleased to 
bestow upon me ; and to pray for the captain 
and his . crew, asking Allah that he will take 
them to his Paradise. 

The next day and night the caravan traveled 
on without a stop. When, however, they again 
made a halt, Selim, the stranger, went up to 
Muley, the younger of the merchants, and said, 
“ You are by far the youngest of us, and besides, 
are always bright and merry. No doubt you 
know some droll story or adventure. Bring it 
out, that it may make us forget the heat of the 
day.” 

“ Well, I might relate something that would 
amuse you,” replied Muley, “ yet modesty be- 
comes youth in all things, therefore my older 
traveling companions must have precedence. 
Zaleukos is always so grave and reserved ; shall 
he not tell us, first, what makes him so serious ? 
Perhaps his anxiety or trouble, if he has any, 
might be lessened if he would impart it to us ; 
for we would gladly help our brother.” 

Zaleukos was a Greek merchant. He was a 
man of middle age, handsome and strong, but 
very grave. Although he was not a Mussulman, 
yet he was beloved by all his traveling com- 


THE CAB AVAN. 


127 


panions. He had won their esteem and trust 
by his refined and open manners. He had but 
one hand. Some of the merchants were of the 
opinion that it was this misfortune that made 
him so grave and reserved. 

To Muley’s suggestion Zaleukos replied : 

“I am much honored by your expressions 
of sympathy. No one of you can lessen my 
trouble, although you have the best of intentions. 
Yet as Muley seems to reproach me for my 
gravity, I will tell you something which will 
justify me in your eyes, if I am more serious 
than others. You see that I have lost my left 
hand. I was not always so ; I lost that missing 
member on the most terrible day of my life. If 
it was by any fault of mine, or if since that pain- 
ful day, I do wrong in seeming grave, you shall 
judge when you have heard the Story of the 
Severed Hand. 



128 


THE C Alt AVAN. 


THE STOBY OF THE SEVEBED HAND. 



WAS born in Constantinople. My 
father was a dragoman at the city 
gate. Besides this, he carried on a 
profitable trade with sweet-scented 
essence, and silk stuffs. He gave 
me a good education. He instructed 
me partly himself, and also had me taught by one 
of our priests. At first he intended me to super- 
intend his store ; but as I displayed greater talent 
than he had expected, he placed me under the 
instruction of one of his friends, who was a 
physician. For a physician could make his 
fortune in Constantinople if he were somewhat 
more learned than the ordinary mountebank. 

Very many Frenchmen came to our house. 
One of them persuaded my father to let me 
travel in his country to the city of Paris ; there, 
he asserted, one could best learn the arts, and at 
the least expense. He said he would without 
charge, take me back with him when he returned. 
My father, who had himself traveled when he 
was young, consented. The Frenchman told me 
to be ready in three months’ time. I was beside 


THE CAB AVAN. 


129 


myself with joy, and could scarcely wait for the 
hour when we should set sail. At last the 
Frenchman settled his affairs, and was ready 
for the journey. 

On the evening before we were to start, my 
father led me to one of his private apartments. 
There I saw several beautiful robes ; some weap- 
ons also were lying on the table. But what most 
attracted my notice was a great pile of gold. I 
had never seen so much together before. My 
father clasped me in his arms and said, “ See, my 
son ! I have prepared clothes for you for the 
journey. These weapons are yours. They are 
the same which your grandfather u T 
gave me when I first 
on my travels. I 
can wield them ; but never 
use them unless you are 
first attacked. Then, my 
boy, strike back valiantly. 

My fortune is not large. 

See ! I have divided 
it into three parts : 
one is yours ; one is 
for my maintenance 
and comfort ; the 
third is to me a 
sacred portion ; it must not be touched, ” he added. 
“It is to serve you in the hour of necessity/’ 



130 


THE CAB AVAN. 


As my old father spoke, tears filled his eyes. 
Perhaps from a foreboding of what might hap- 
pen ; for I never saw him more. 

We had a good voyage, and soon reached 
France. Six days’ journey by laud brought us 
to the great city of Paris. Here my French 
friend hired a room for me, and advised me to 
use my money, which amounted in all to ten 
thousand francs, very carefully. 

I lived three years in this city, and learned all 
that a thorough physician ought to know. It is 
but the truth, however, to say that I did not enjoy 
myself there. The customs of the people did 
not please me. Then, too, I made but few good 
friends there. These few, however, were all 
noble young men. 

The longing to be at home again at last be- 
came strong within me. All the time I had been 
away I had heard nothing of my father; and I 
seized the first favorable opportunity to return 
to my home. 

A French embassy was about to start from 
Paris, on its journey to the court of Turkey. I 
persuaded the ambassador to employ me as sur- 
geon to himself and retinue, and so traveled 
comfortably to Constantinople. 

I found my father’s house shut up. The 
neighbors were astonished when they saw me, 
and told me that my father had been dead two 


THE CAB AVAN. 


131 


TKe c?oct or 

bring 5 tKe 

b 


months. A doctor whom I had known well in 
my youth, brought me the key. 

Alone and forlorn, I went into the desolate 
house. I found everything as my father had left 
it ; only the gold, which he had promised me to 
leave untouched, was missing. I asked the doc- 
tor where it was. He replied, “ I was a good 
friend to your father, and 
left me all his money as a 
proof of his gratitude.” 

Remembering the words 
of my father at parting, 
this was to me, incompre- A 
hensible ; yet what could ij 
I do ? I had neither evi- 
dence nor witness against 
the doctor, and I could only 
rejoice that he had not also taken my father’s 
house and goods as a legacy. 

This was the first misfortuue that befell me. 
From that time on, however, there came blow 
upon blow. My reputation as a physician did 
not increase. For I was ashamed to advertise 
and recommend myself, and, above all, I missed 
the influence of my father, who would have in- 
troduced me to the richest and most distinguished 
of the citizens ; but now, no one thought of poor 
Zaleukos. Also, I could find no sale for my 
father’s goods ; for since his death, his customers 



132 


THE CARAVAN. 


had gone elsewhere, and it is slow work to find 
new ones. 

While I was thus brooding disconsolately over 
my sad situation, a new thought struck me. I 
had often seen among our people Frenchmen who 
traveled through our land, seeking for their 
goods a market in the different cities. The peo- 
ple were always eager to buy from them, because 
their goods came from foreign lan$s. In this 
way, the foreigners could make nearly a hun- 
dred per cent. 

Immediately my resolution was taken. I sold 
my father’s house, and gave part of the money that 
I received for it to a trustworthy friend, to keep 
in reserve. With the rest, I bought the things 
which were most rare in France ; such as shawls, 
silk stuffs, salves and oils. I took passage on a 
ship and started on my second voyage to France. 

It seemed as if good fortune came to me 
again as soon as I had passed the castles of the 
Dardanelles. 

Our voyage was short and pleasant. I traveled 
throughout France, and found everywhere, in the 
large and small cities, willing customers for my 
goods. My friend in Constantinople kept me 
supplied with a fresh stock, and I became 
wealthier day by day. 

At last, when I had made so much money that 
I thought I could venture on a larger enterprise, 


THE CAB AVAN. 


133 


I traveled with goods into Italy. I must, how- 
ever, mention one thing which brought me not a 
little money ; that is, I used my knowledge of 
medicine to help me in increasing my fortune. 
When I came to a city, I had it published abroad 
that a celebrated Greek physician had arrived, 
who had already made many wonderful cures. 
And truly my salves and medicines have brought 
me many zechins. At last, in my travels, I 
reached the city of Florence, in Italy. I inten- 
ded to reside there for a long time ; partly because 
I was pleased with the place, and partly because 
I wished to recover from the fatigue of the 
journey thither. 

I hired a warehouse by the city gate. Not far 
from it I secured also two handsome rooms, 
which were connected by a balcony to an inn. 
Immediately I sent out my cards that advertised 
me as a physician and merchant. I had scarcely 
opened my warehouse, when the people came 
pouring in. And although my prices were a 
little higher, yet I sold more than did other 
merchants, because I took pains to make myself 
agreeable to my customers. ^ p „ nte Vecchio. 

I had already 1 Florence-! 

spent four days : sa - 

very pleasantly 
in Florence. One 
evening after I 



134 


THE CAB AVAN. 


had shut up my warehouse, and according to my 
custom each evening, was rearranging the stock in 
my salvatory, I found in a small box a note which 
I did not recollect having placed there. I opened 
it. It proved to be a request that at exactly twelve 
o’clock that night I would be on the bridge which 
is called the Ponte Vecchio. I was greatly puz- 
zled over this note. I knew no one in Florence. 
Finally I concluded that some one wished to take 
me secretly to see a sick person. Such a sum- 
mons had often come to me before. I determined 
to go to the bridge. I took the precaution, how- 
ever, to carry along the saber which my father 
had given me. 

As it drew near midnight, I started on my way. 
I soon reached the Ponte Yecchio. The bridge 
was forsaken and dreary, but I resolved to wait 
until the one who had summoned me should 
appear. It was a cold night. The moon shone 
brightly, and, lost in thought, I gazed down upon 
the waves of the Arno, as they sparkled in the 
moonlight. 

The clock in the nearest church steeple struck 
twelve. I turned my head, and there, right 
before me, stood a large man. He was wrapped 
in a red mantle, one end of which he held in 
front of his face. At first I was somewhat 
frightened, his approach had been so sudden. 
But I soon recovered my composure, and imme- 


THE CAB AVAN. 


135 


diately said, “ If you have sent for me to come 
here, speak out, and tell me what service I can 
render you.” 

The disguised man turned himself around and 
said slowly, “ Follow ! ” 

But my courage was not sufficient to allow me 
to go alone with this unknown man wherever he 
should choose to guide me. I therefore said; 
“ Not so, my dear sir ; will you not first tell me 
where you wish to lead me, and also, can you 
not let me see a little of your face, that I may 
judge if you be friend or foe ? ” At this he 
seemed to take offense. 

“ If you will not follow, Zaleukos, then remain 
where you are ! ” he answered, and went on. 
Thereupon my anger was kindled. 

“ Do you suppose,” I cried out, “ that I will 
allow myself to be trifled with in this way by 
every fool who chooses to mock me, or that I 
would have waited here this cold night for 
nothing ? ” In three springs I had gained his 
side, and seizing him by the cloak I cried out 
loudly for help, while I laid my other hand on 
my saber. But the cloak remained in my grasp ; 
the unknown man had disappeared around the 
next corner. 

By degrees my anger subsided. I had the 
cloak. That surely would aid me in finding out 
who this strange adventurer could be. Flinging 


136 


THE CAB AVAN. 


the garment across my arm, I started toward 
home. I was scarcely more than a hundred steps 
from the bridge when some one touched me 
lightly on the shoulder, and whispered in French, 
“ Be on your guard, master; there is nothing to 
be made to-night.” Before I could face my in- 
former, he was gone. All that I could see was 
a shadow gliding past the houses. That the 
message referred to the red cloak, and not to me, 
I could readily understand ; but that threw no 


’’ *ht on the subject. 





* The next morning I pon- 

. r dered the matter well. At 

laecl 

a. first I concluded to adver- 


majxtle ^ ie c ^ oa ^’ sa yi n g I had 

_ ^ found it. But on second 
more 

closely'' thought I knew that would 
* q ) be unwise. The unknown 
man could send one of his friends 
for the garment, and I would neve] 


get an explanation of the affair. 

While I was considering what to do, I exam- 
ined the mantle more closely. It was made of 
heavy purple-red Genoese velvet, trimmed with 
astrakhan fur, and richly embroidered with gold. 
The magnificence of the garment suggested a 
new idea ; one I determined to carry out. 

I took the cloak to my warehouse, and pre- 
sented it for sale, fixing the price too high to 



THE CAB AVAN. 


137 


find a purchaser. My motive was to take par- 
ticular notice of the face and features of any 
one who should ask for a fur-trimmed cloak. 
For although after the loss of the mantle, the 
Unknown had fled so swiftly, his manner was 
so determined that I was certain I should recog- 
nize him anywhere. 

The extraordinary beauty of the cloak at- 
tracted the attention of all, but no one who 
came to examine the garment in the least resem- 
bled the unknown man. Neither were any will- 
ing to pay the high price I had set upon it. 
Upon asking one after another of my customers 
if there were no other such mantles in Florence, 
they all answered No, and declared they had 
never before seen so tasty and elegant a piece of 
work. 

That evening a young man came into my store 
I had often seen him there, and, indeed, he had 
that very day offered a high price for the man- 
tle. Throwing a purse of zechins on to the 
counter, he said, “Zaleukos, I must have your 
mantle, if paying the high price that you ask for 
it leaves me a beggar.” And at once he began to 
count out his gold pieces. 

I was much troubled at this. I had displayed 
the mantle only in hopes that the attention of 
the unknown man might be attracted by it. Now 
this young simpleton had come, and was willing 


138 


THE CAB AVAN. 


to pay the enormous price at which I had valued 
it. But what was I to do ? I had to consent to 
sell it. In one way I was greatly benefited by the 
transaction; for by so doing I was handsomely 
paid for my night’s adventure. 

The youth took the garment and started off. 
On the threshold he turned. Loosening a paper 
which was fastened to the mantle, he threw it 
toward me, saying, “Here, Zaleukos, is some- 
thing which certainly does not belong to the 
mantle.” I took the note, indifferent as to its 
contents. Opening it I read : “ Bring the mantle 
to-night, at the same appointed hour, to the 
Ponte Vecchio ; four hundred zechins await you 
there.” 

I stood as if transfixed to the spot. I had 
thrown away my fortune, and failed in my first 
endeavor. 1 did not wait long, however. Hastily 
gathering up the two hundred zechins I had taken 
in exchange for the garment, I ran after the man. 
“Take back your zechins, good friend,” I cried, 
“ and give me the mantle. I cannot possibly part 
with it.” 

At first the young man took my request as a 
joke. But finding that I was in earnest, he flew 
into a passion. He called me hard names. Finally 
we came to blows. I was fortunate enough, how- 
ever, in the struggle, to drag the mantle away 
from him, and then tried to hurry off with it. 


THE GABA VAN. 


139 


But he called on the police for help, and they 
took us both before a judge. 

The judge was much surprised at the cause of 
our dispute, and gave the mantle to my opponent. 
I offered the young man twenty, fifty, eighty, and 
at last a hundred zechins, beside his two hun- 
dred, if he would give me back the mantle. The 
money had the desired effect. He took the 
three hundred zechins, and I went off with the 
mantle, although I knew that all the men in 
Florence took me for a fool or madman. 

But the opinion of the people was of no conse- 
quence to me. I knew what they did not ; that 
I would gain a hundred zechins by the bargain. 

I awaited the night with impatience. At 
the same hour as before I went to the Ponte 
Yecchio. With the last stroke of the steeple 
clock the figure came from out of the darkness. 
It was, seemingly, the same man whom I had 
seen the previous night. “ Have you the mantle? ” 
were his first words. “ Yes, master,’’ I answered, 
“ but it cost me a full hundred zechins.” 

“Be content,” said he, “here are four hundred 
zechins.” He went with me to the wide rail of 
the bridge, and counted out the gold pieces. The 
four hundred zechins were mine. They glittered 
magnificently in the moonlight, and their luster 
made my heart glad. Ah ! little did I guess that 
it would be my heart’s last joy. 


140 


THE CARAVAN. 


I put the gold in my pocket. I had a great 
desire to see the face of this generous stranger, 
but he wore a heavy mask, from out of which 
gleamed a pair of piercing black eyes. “ I thank 
you, sir, for your bounty,” I ventured to say ; 
“ and now what else can I do for you ? I tell 
you, however, first, that it must not be anything 
wrong.” 

“ It was unnecessary for you to say that,” he 
anwsered, as he threw the mantle around his 
shoulders. “ I need your help as a surgeon ; yet 
not for a living person, but for a dead body.” 

“ How can that be ? ” I cried in astonishment. 

“I came hither with my sister from foreign 
lands,” he replied, and at the same time beck- 
oned me to follow him. “ I live here with her 
at a relative’s house. My sister died suddenly 
yesterday, and her kinsfolk wish to bury her 
to-morrow. According to an old custom of our 
family, all must rest in the vault of our ances- 
tors ; nevertheless, many who die in foreign 
lands are embalmed, and buried in the place 
where they die. I have granted our relatives 
here her body ; but I must, at least, take my 
father the head of his daughter, that he may see 
her face once again.” 

To fulfill this wish was to me something 
terrible ; yet I dare not turn back, for by so 
doing I might offend this unknown man. I 


THE CAB AVAN. 


141 


therefore told him that I could go in as the em- 
balmer, and bade him lead me to the apartment 
of his dead sister. I could not refrain from 
asking why all this must be done so secretly and 
in the dead of night ? He informed me that his 
relatives, who considered his intention a bar- 
barous one, would be present during the day, and 
prevent him from having it done. But when the 
head was once taken off there was nothing more 
to be said about it. He would not have sent' for 
me, only a very natural feeling had deterred him 
from cutting off the head of his own sister, 
although she was dead. 

We had by this time arrived before a large 
and magnificent house. My companion pointed 
it out to me as the end of our midnight walk. 
We passed the chief entrance, and went in 
through a postern gate, which my unknown 
guide fastened carefully behind him. A narrow, 
winding flight of steps led into a dimly-lighted 
passage. Along this we passed, and at the end 
of the passage we came to a room lighted by a 
lamp hanging from the ceiling. 

In this apartment there was a bed. On the 
bed lay a corpse. The unknown stranger turned 
his face away as if to hide his tears. He pointed 
to the bed, and bade me execute my work well 
and quickly. Then he left the room. 

I opened my case of knives, which, as a sur- 


142 


THE CAE AVAN. 


geon, I always carried with me, and approached 
the bed. Only the head of the corpse was visi- 
ble. But that was so beautiful that I was seized 
with the most heartfelt sympathy. Her dark 
hair hung down in long tresses ; the face was 
pale; the eyes were closed. I summoned all 
my fortitude. Taking my sharpest knife, with 
one stroke, I cut through the jugular vein. O, 
horror ! the dead one opened her eyes, but closed 
them again immediately, and with deep groans, 
seemed to breathe out her life. At the same 
time a stream of warm blood flowed from out 
the wound. 

That she was now dead there was no doubt; 
for there was no healing such a gash. For some 
minutes I stood, stunned by what had happened, 
and full of grief and horror. Had the stranger 
deceived me, or had his sister perhaps been en- 
tranced ? The latter seemed to me the more prob- 
able. But I dared not tell her brother that 
a slighter cut would have awakened without 
killing her ; therefore, I wished to detach the 
head entirely from the body. Once again she 
groaned, and, writhing, as if in terrible pain, ex- 
pired. At this I was overwhelmed with horror, 
and ran shuddering out of the apartment. 

In the passage, I found myself in total dark- 
ness ; for the lamp had gone out. I could dis- 
cover no trace of my unknown guide, and I had 


THE CAB AVAN. 


143 


to feel my way along by the wall, that I might 
reach the winding steps. I found them at last, 
and half falling, half sliding, I gained the bot- 
tom. Here, also, there was no one to be seen ; the 
door, however, stood open, and I breathed more 
freely when I reached the street. I had scarcely 
dared to breathe at all in that house. Spurred 
on by terror, I soon reached my dwelling, and 
rushing into my room, buried my face in the 
pillows of my bed, striving to forget the dreadful 
deed I had done. But it was long before I fell 
asleep ; and upon awakening in the morning the 
terrible scene returned to my mind, nor could I 
shake it off. 

It seemed most probable to me that the man 
who had been the cause of my committing this 
atrocious deed would not betray me. 

I therefore determined to go on with my busi- 
ness in my warehouse, and as far as possible to 
assume an unconcerned manner. But a new 
thought which just then flashed into my mind, 
increased my anxiety. My cap and girdle were 
missing, so also was my case of knives ; and I 
was uncertain whether I had left them in that 
terrible room, or had lost them in my flight. 
Alas ! the former seeined the more probable ; 
and if so, I would be detected as a murderer. 

I opened my warehouse at the usual hour. 
My neighbor came in immediately, as he was in 


144 


THE CAB AVAN. 


the habit of doing each morning, being a sociable 
and communicative sort of person. 

“Ah, friend, what do you say to the terrible 
deed,’ 5 he began, “ that happened last night ? ” 

I pretended to know nothing about it. 

“ How is it that you know nothing of the 
story with which the whole city is filled ? Do 
you not know that the loveliest flower of Flor- 
ence, Bianca, the daughter of the governor, was 
murdered last night ? Ah ! I saw her only yes- 
terday, so happy, driving through the streets 
with her betrothed; to-day was to have been 
their wedding-day.” 

Every word was a dagger in my heart. And 
how often was the torture renewed ; for each one 
of my customers told me the story ; and each 
related it in a more terrible manner than his 
predecessor. And yet no one could relate any- 
thing half so shocking as what I myself had 
witnessed the previous night. 

About midday an officer from the court came 
into my warehouse, and bid me step apart from 
the people. “ Signor Zaleukos,” said he, as he 
produced the articles which I had lost, “ do these 
belong to you ? ” 

At first I thought to steadily disown them. 
But through the half-open door I could see my 
landlord and others. They could easily bear evi- 
dence against me, so I determined not to make the 


THE CAB AVAN. 


145 


matter worse by telling a lie, but confessed my- 
self the owner of the articles in question. 

The officer bade me follow him. He led me 
to a large building which I recognized as the 
prison. There he conducted me with but little 
ceremony, to one of the cells. 

My situation was terrible as I meditated in 
my solitude on the occurrences of the preced- 
ing night. The thought of having committed 
murder, although involuntarily, was ever upper- 
most in my mind. I could not conceal from my- 
self the fact that the glitter of the gold had 
confused my mind, else I would not have fallen 
so blindly into the trap. 

Two hours after my imprisonment I was led 
out from my cell. I was conducted down a long- 
flight of steps, and thence into a large court- 
room. 

Around a long table, draped in black, sat twelve 
men. Benches were placed along the sides of 
the apartment. These were filled with the most 
distinguished citizens of Florence. The high 
galleries on either side of the room were densely 
crowded with spectators. 

When I had reached the draped table, one of 
the men arose in a sad, mournful manner. It 
was the governor. Addressing the assembly, he 
said that, as the father of the murdered one 
could not sit as judge, he resigned his place to 


146 


THE CARAVAN . 


the oldest of the senators. This senator was aged 
and bent with years. His temples were thin and 
prominent, and his hair pure white ; 
but his eyes flashed like fire, and his 
\ voice was strong and steady. He 
pija' i \ began at once by asking me if I 
con ^ esse ^ to ^ ay i n g committed 
the mur( i er * I begged him to give 
fup* me a hearing, and related boldly, and 
in a distinct tone of voice, what I had done, 
and all I knew. 

I noticed that during my narrative the gov- 
ernor turned first pale and then red. When I 
had finished his wrath broke out in words. “ How, 
wretch ! ” he cried out to me, “ so you wish to im- 
pute to another the crime which you have perpe- 
trated to satisfy your avarice ! ” The old senator 
checked him in his interruption, reminding him 
that he had voluntarily resigned his seat as chief 
judge. Furthermore, he said, it was not yet proved 
that I had committed the crime out of avarice ; 
for, according to the governor’s own testimony, 
nothing had been stolen. Indeed, he went fur- 
ther. He declared to the governor that he must 
give an account of his daughter’s early life. 
Only by so doing could it be determined whether 
or not I had spoken the truth. 

He then adjourned the court for that day, that 
after learning from the governor the story of his 


THE CAB AVAN. 


147 


daughter’s life, he might hold council with the 
other senators. 

I was led back to my cell where I spent a sad 
day. Most devoutly did I wish that the court 
might discover some connection between the 
murdered Bianca and the owner of the red 
mantle. 

The next day I entered the court-room full 
of hope. A large pile of papers lay on the table. 
The old senator asked me if they were in mjr 
handwriting. I looked at them. The letters 
were in the same handwriting as the two cards 
which 1 had received, asking me to come to 
the Ponte Yecchio. I so informed the senators. 
They insisted, however, that I must have written 
them. The signature of each, they said, was 
undoubtedly a Z, and this was the initial of my 
name. 

The letters shown me contained threats to the 
murdered lady, and warnings because of her mar- 
riage which was about to take place. 

The governor must have given special orders 
with regard to me, for during yay imprisonment 
I was treated with suspicion and severity. At 
first I hoped the truth of my story might be 
proved by the two notes from the stranger, which 
were in my apartments. But I was told that 
the rooms had been searched and no papers found. 
At the conclusion of that day’s session all hope 


148 


THE CAB AVAN. 


had forsaken me. On the third day I was again 
led into the court and was told the verdict : I 
was found guilty of willful murder, and was 
condemned to death. 

Ah ! thus had it come to pass. Bereft of all 
that was dear to me on earth, far from my native 
land, I, in the flower of my life, guiltless, must 
die on the block ! 

On the evening of that awful day which had 
decided my fate, I sat in my solitary dungeon. 
All hope had fled. My thoughts were on the 
morrow, and my death. Suddenly the door 
opened, and a man stepped in who gazed upon 
me for some time, in silence. 

“So I have found you again, Zaleukos,” said 
he. 

I had not recognized him by the dim light of 
my lamp ; but the sound of his voice awakened 
in me old recollections. It was Baletty, one of 
those young friends whom I had known during 
my student life in Paris. He said he was on 
a visit to Florence, where his father resided, a 
much esteemed and influential man. On hear- 
ing my story he had come, that he might see me 
once . more, and hear, from my own lips, what 
reason I could have had for committing such a 
deed. I told him my story. He seemed greatly 
moved. He besought me to tell him, my only 
friend, everything ; not to go from life with a 


149 


THE CAB AVAN. 


falsehood on my lips. I swore to him by the 
most solemn oath I could conjure that my only 
fault in the matter had been my greed for gain. 
Blinded by the glitter of the gold I had not con- 
sidered the improbability of the unknown man’s 
story. 

“ Then you did not know Bianca ? ” said my 
friend. I told him that I had never seen her 
before. “ A deep secret underlies the deed,” 
said Baletty. 

He then informed me that the governor very 
strongly urged my condemnation ; that it was 
rumored he said that I had known Bianca for 
some time. I had murdered her, so the story 
ran, out of revenge and because of her betrothal 
to another. 

I reminded Baletty that this report was very 
likely due to the owner of the red mantle ; yet 
I had no proof to show his share in the deed. 
Baletty embraced me with tears in his eyes. He 
promised to do all in his power that could in the 
least tend to save my life. But I had little hope. 
I knew Baletty to be a wise and learned man, and 
one well versed in the law. I also knew that 
he would try by every available means to save 
me ; and still my courage sank. 

Two long days I was kept in suspense. At 
last Baletty appeared. “ I bring encouragement, 
Zaleukos,” he cried, “ though it is burdened with 


150 


THE CAB AVAN, 


a penalty. You are not to die ; you are to go 
free ; but with the loss of a hand ! ” 

I thanked him gratefully for my life. He then 
told me that the governor could not be persuaded 
to investigate the case further. Not to 





both of them searched, day and night, in all the 
old books of record, and had at last been re- 
warded by finding what they sought. 

The sentence thus discovered read : “ His left 
hand shall be struck off, his goods confiscated, 
and he himself be banished forever.” 

This, then, was to be my punishment too. 
My task was to prepare myself for the painful 
hour that awaited me. I will not picture the 
dreadful scene. Enough to say that, standing 
in an open market-place, I laid my hand upon 
the block, and saw my own blood flow from it 
over foreign soil. 

When the terrible ordeal was ended Baletty 
took me to his house. There I remained until 


THE CAB AVAN. 


151 


my wound had partially healed. When I was 
able to depart my old friend supplied me with 
ample traveling money. All the fortune I had 
toiled so hard to accumulate had fallen a booty 
into the hands of the law. 

I traveled from Florence to Sicily. From 
thence I left by the first ship for Constantinople. 

My only hope of support was the sum of 
money left with my friend. I also begged him 
to allow me to live with him. Imagine my sur- 
prise and astonishment when he asked why I did 
not take possession of my own house. He then 
went on to explain. A foreigner had bought, in 
my name, a house in the Greek Quarter. The 
same man had also told the neighbors that I 
would soon arrive. Accompanied by my friend 
I at once visited that part of the city. I was 
received with joy by all my old acquaintances. 
An old merchant handed me a letter. This same 
foreigner, he said, had left it in his care. 

I opened it and read : 


Zaleukos : 

Two hands are ready to work hard, that you may not 
feel the loss of one of yours. This house, and all it 
contains, is yours; and every year, you shall receive so 
much money that you will be counted among the richest 
of your people. Enjoy you ease and forgive, if you 
can, one who is more unhappy than you? 


152 


THE CAB AVAN. 


I could guess the writer. The merchant told 
me that it was a man whom he took to be a 
Frenchman. He wore a red mantle. 

This great show of liberality caused me to be- 
lieve that the unknown man was not altogether 
without heart and feeling. Everything in my 
new house was of the best. There was likewise 
a warehouse stocked with goods far handsomer 
than any I had ever owned. 

Ten years have passed. I still continue in 
Q ^ , business. But it is 

more from the 
force of habit 
% than because 
I have need 
- of so doing. 
That land 
where I was so 
unfortunate I 
have never seen since parting with good Baletty. 

Every year since then I have received a thou- 
sand pieces of gold. It brings me many com- 
forts and much pleasure. I am truly grateful 
to the unhappy man for his liberality, yet it can- 
not atone for the sorrow and anguish of soul 
which I have suffered, and must ever endure. 

• For no matter how lively the scene, nor how gay 
the pleasure, there is ever before me an awful 
picture. It is the face of the murdered Bianca. 



THE CAB AVAN. 


153 


Zaleukos, the Greek merchant, finished his 
story. The others had listened with great inter- 
est ; but the stranger, especially, seemed to be 
much affected by the sad narrative. Several 
times he had sighed deeply, while Muley took 
the story so much to heart, that, at one stop, 
tears stood in his eyes. 

For some time they talked over the troubles 
through which poor Zaleukos had passed. Then 
the stranger said : 

“ And do you not hate this unknown man who 
was the cause of your losing so useful a member 
of your body — this fellow who brought your 
very life into such great danger ? ” 

“ Well/’ the Greek replied, “ I grant I did in 
days gone by. There were times when my heart 
cried out to God for vengeance on the one who 
had brought this great sorrow upon me, and em- 
bittered my life : but I found comfort in the 
faith of my fathers ; I am a Christian, and that 
faith teaches me to love my enemies. Of one 
thing, moreover, I am certain — he is even more 
unhappy than I am.” 

“ Zaleukos, you are a noble man,” the stranger 
exclaimed ; and he grasped the hand of the Greek. 

The leader of the guards now interrupted the 
merchants in their conversation. Hurriedly 
entering the tent, he informed them that it was 
no time for rest, as they were near to the place 


154 


THE CARAVAN. 


where caravans were frequently attacked. In- 
deed he reported that the sentinels thought they 
saw, in the distance, a body of horsemen. 

At this news the merchants were much dis- 
turbed ; but Selim, the stranger, seemed quite 
at ease. He remarked that the guards were so 
well armed that they had no cause to fear a troup 
of thieving Arabs. 

“ Indeed, sir,” replied the captain of the guard, 
“ if that were all, we might take our ease with- 
out danger ; but we fear that these may be the 
terrible Orbasan and his men. If so, it behooves 
us to be on our guard.” 

The stranger asked who this Orbasan was, and 
Achmet, the oldest merchant, answered, “ There 
are many reports among the people about this 
wonderful man. Some hold that he is a super- 
natural being, because of his remarkable courage ; 
he has often entered alone into combat with live 
or six men and overcome them. Others think 
him to be a courageous Frank, whom misfortune 
has driven to this country ; but all agree that he 
is a notable robber and thief.” 

“ And yet that is not proven,” exclaimed one 
of the merchants named Lezah. “ And even if he 
is a robber, he is, also, a most noble man. As 
such, he has shown himself to my brother ; the 
incidents I could relate to you. He keeps all 
his band under excellent control and discipline, 


THE CAB AVAN. 


155 


and as long as he roams through the desert no 
other banditti dare show themselves. Besides 
this, he does not rob as other Bedouin do. He 
demands only a moderate sum of money from 
caravans, and in return insures them his protec- 
tion in the desert against other banditti. Those 
who pay this fee willingly, may go on unmo- 
lested ; for Orbasan is lord of the desert.” 

So spake the travelers in the tent ; but the 
guards, who were stationed around the resting 
place, began to grow uneasy. A considerable 
body of armed men rode toward them from the 
distance. They seemed to be riding straight for 
the camp. One of the guards went to the tent 
to announce that they would probably soon be 
attacked. The merchants consulted together as 
to what was to be done ; should they advance to 
meet the robbers, or await the attack ? Achinet 
and Lezah preferred the latter course : the fiery 
Muley, however, and Zaleukos, the Greek, were 
in favor of doing the former. They called upon 
the stranger to come on their side. The stranger 
quietly drew from his girdle a small piece of 
blue cloth dotted with red stars. This he bound 
to the top of a lance, and ordered one of the 
slaves to hoist it on the top of the tent. “ That 
is a pledge for our lives,” said he. “When 
the horsemen see this sign, they will ride qui- 
etly off.” 


156 


THE CAB AVAN. 


Muley had no faith in the flag of truce ; but 
the slave placed the lance as he had been or- 
dered. ^Meanwhile, all seized their weapons, 
and with anxious expectation, awaited the ap- 
proach of the horsemen. The would-be assail- 
ants, however, seemed to have been influenced 
by the flag on the tent ; for they turned suddenly 
in their onward course and rode rapidly away in 
another direction. 

The merchants stood for a few moments in 
perfect amazement. They gazed first at the re- 
treating horsemen and then at the stranger. The 
latter stood in the door of the tent quite uncon- 
cerned, looking off upon the plain as if nothing 
had happened. 

Muley was the first to break the silence. 
“ Who are you, mighty stranger,” he exclaimed, 
“that you, by a sign, can restrain the wild 
hordes of the desert ? ” 

“ You value my art higher than its worth,” 
answered Selim Baruch. “ I provided myself 
with this signal when I escaped from my cap- 
tivity : what its meaning is to them, I do not 
myself know ; only this, I know, that he who 
travels with this signal is under the protection 
of some mighty power.” 

The merchants thanked the stranger, and 
called him their benefactor. And truly, the 
number of the horsemen had been so great, that 


THE CAB AVAN. 


157 


the caravan could not long have offered success- 
ful resistance. 

With light hearts the merchants now gave 
themselves up to rest. When, at last, Aie sun 
began to sink, and the evening wind arose over 
the sandy plain, they broke up the camp and 
went on their journey. 

The next day they pitched their tents only 
one day’s journey distant from the borders of 
the desert. And when they had again assembled 
in the common tent, Lezah began the conversa- 
tion. “ I told you, yesterday,” he said, “ that 
the dreaded Orbasan is a noble man. Allow me, 
to-day, to relate to you the story of my brother’s 
adventure.” 


158 


THE CAB AVAN. 






iOR THE -STORY 


TOLD BY THE MEHCHANT LETAhI ' 9' : 




My father was the Kadi in Accara. He had 
three children. I was the eldest ; a brother and 
a sister were my juniors by some years. 

When I was twenty years of age one of my 
uncles sent for me. He made me his sole heir, 
on condition that I remained with him until his 
death. I did not see my home again for some 
years, and knew nothing of the terrible fate 
which had overshadowed my house, and how 
graciously Allah had guarded my family. 

My brother Mustapha was just two years older 
than our sister Fatme. They loved each other 
dearly, and together strove to do all in their 
power to lighten the burdens of our sick father 
in his old age. 

On Fatme’s sixteenth birthday my brother pre- 
pared a feast. He invited all her friends ; he set 
out for them, in his father’s garden, a handsome 
repast ; and when the evening had come, he in- 
vited them to go on board a boat, which he had 


THE CAB AVAN. 


159 


hired and decked in festive array, to give them 
a little row upon the sea. 

Fatuie and her companions were delighted ; 
for the evening was very fine, and the city viewed 
from the water formed a very beautiful picture. 
The girls enjoyed themselves so much on the 
water that they persuaded my brother to go far- 
ther and still farther from the shore. 

Father unwillingly, Mustapha complied. He 
had, but a few days before, seen a pirate vessel 
cruising near where they then were, and he did 
not wish to risk capture. Not far from the city 
a small island rose from the sea. Thither the 
maidens wished to go, to see the sunset from the 
water. 

As they rowed around the island, they saw, 
some distance from them, a boat filled with 
armed men. My brother, anticipating trouble, 
at once turned his rudder toward land, and 
rowed homeward with all his strength. But the 
strangers seemed to have noticed his fright. At 
once they rowed quickly after Mustapha’s boat, 
pulled ahead of it, and kept between it and the 
land ; for they had more oars than were in my 
brother’s boat. 

The maidens, when they perceived what dan- 
ger they were in, sprang up screaming and call- 
ing for help. In vain Mustapha tried to reas- 
sure them ; in vain he begged them to keep quiet, 


160 


THE CAB AVAN. 


lest by their running two and fro in their excite- 
ment, the boat would be overturned. All his ef- 
forts were useless. At last, at the nearer approach 
of the hostile boat, the girls all crowded to the 
farther side of their boat, and over it went. By 
this time, however, some men had been drawn to 
the shore by the tumult. These now observed 
the hostile boat. For some time our people had 
been on the lookout for a band of pirates, against 
whom they had cause for many grudges. Several 
boats at once put off from shore, to see what was 
the cause of the disturbance, and discover to whom 
the strange boat belonged. They came up just in 
time to rescue the drowning maidens. In the 
confusion, however, the enemy’s boat stole away 
unobserved, and the men in the rescuing boats 
were not certain that they had really saved all 
the maidens. 

Mustapha at once looked through the two 
boats. Alas ! my sister and one of her compan- 
ions were missing. At the same time they 
discovered, in ' one of the boats, a foreigner, 
whom no one seemed to know. 

Intimidated by threats 
from Mustapha, he 
acknowledged that 
he belonged to the 
enemy’s ship. She 
lay at anchor, he 



THE CARAVAN. 


161 


said, about two miles to the eastward. His com- 
panions in the hostile boat had left him, behind, 
in their hasty flight, while engaged in helping 
to rescue the drowning maidens ; he also said 
that he had seen his companions carry off two of 
the maidens to their ship. 

The grief of my old father was terrible ; but 
poor Mustapha was almost heart-broken. Not 
only was his beloved sister lost, and through his 
heedlessness, but her friend also had shared her 
sad fate. This girl had been betrothed to Mus- 
tapha by her parents. My father, however, had 
not yet given his consent to the union. The 
parents of the young girl were poor and of a 
humbler station in life. 

But my father was a stern man. When his 
grief had somewhat subsided, he sent for Mus- 
tapha. “Your foolhardiness,” he said, “has 
robbed me of the comfort of my old age and the 
light of my eyes. Go hence ; I banish you for- 
ever from my sight. My curse rest upon you 
and your descendants; only when you bring 
Fatme to me again, shall your head be freed 
from the curse of your father.” 

My poor brother had not expected this. He 
had already determined to go in search of his 
sister and his betrothed, and only waited to re- 
ceive the permission of his father. But now, 
alas ! he went out into the world burdened with 


162 


THE CARAVAN. 


a father’s curse. Although before bowed down 
with grief at the loss of his sister, and blaming 
himself as largely responsible for it, yet he could 
not now but feel that his father’s severity was 
more than he had merited. 

He went to the captured 
pirate and asked him in what 
direction his ship was going. 
He learned that the robbers 
dealt in slaves, and that they 
generally disposed of their 
booty in the large market- 
place at Balsora. 

When my brother returned 
home, to prepare himself for the journey, his 
father’s anger seemed in a measure, to have 
abated; for he sent him a purse of gold, to 
defray the expenses of his journey. 

Mustapha took a tearful farewell of his home, 
and went on his way toward Balsora. And be- 
cause, just at that time, there was no ship leaving 
our little city for Balsora, he took the journey by 
land. He had, therefore, to travel very rapidly 
that he might arrive at the city before the pirates 
had left. As he had a good horse, he hoped to 
reach that city at the end of the sixth day. But 
on the evening of the fourth day, as he was riding 
on his lonely way, suddenly, three men rushed out 
upon him from a neighboring wood. He saw that 



THE CAB AVAN. 


163 


they were strong and well armed, and that they 
doubtless would care more for his gold and his 
horse, than his life ; he therefore called out to 
them that he would yield up his horse and gold. 
They alighted from their horses, and securely 
tying both his feet to the girth of his horse’s sad- 
dle they placed him and his horse between two of 
the band, the third then seized the bridle of his 
horse; and he was led quickly off, without his 
assailants speaking one word. 

Mustapha gave himself up to gloomy despair. 
His father’s curse seemed already to have fallen 
upon him in its full weight. How even by giving 
his own poor life for their freedom could he hope 
to rescue his sister and Zoraide, his betrothed, if 
he were robbed of all his money ? 

Mustapha and his silent keepers had ridden 
about an hour, when they turned into a side 
valley. The little valley had a goodly supply of 
tall trees ; a soft, dark-green turf lay under foot, 
and a little rivulet rippled through the middle 
of the valley ; everything seemed to invite the 
weary one to rest. Fifteen to eighteen tents 
were pitched in this charming valley ; many 
camels and fine horses were fastened to the tent 
pegs, and from one of the tents there floated 
the sweet strains of a guitar, and the sound of 
two fine male voices. 

My brother felt as if the people who had 


164 


THE CARAVAN. 


chosen so beautiful a place for camping could 
not have any wicked intentions toward him ; he 
followed, without compulsion, the directions of 
his guides, who when they had loosened his 
bonds, motioned to him to descend. 

They led him to one of the tents which was 
larger than the others. The interior was hung 
with tapestry, and decorated with ornaments. 
Magnificent gold-embroidered pillows, elegant 
carpets, and golden censers, would have, else- 
where, bespoken great wealth and luxury ; but 
here they only told of robbery. 

On one of the pillows sat a little old man. 
His face was hideous, his skin was swarthy, and 
shining, and a marked expression of Turkish 
cunning about the mouth and eyes made him 
most repulsive to look at. This little dwarf im- 
mediately attempted to assume a certain amount 
of dignity, and my brother conjectured at once 
that it was not for him that the tent was so 
elegantly adorned. The inquiry of his guide 
seemed to confirm his conjecture. 

“ Where is the Fearless ? ” one of the robbers 
asked the little man. “ He has gone on a little 
expedition,” he answered, “but he has commis- 
sioned me to take his place until he returns.” 
“ Then he has not done a very wise thing,” the 
robber returned, “for it must soon be determined 
whether this dog shall die, or pay ransom, 


THE CAB AVAN. 


165 


and that the Fearless can decide better than 
you.” 

The little man drew himself up to his full 
height, that he might reach, with the tips of his 
lingers, the ear of his opposer ; for it seemed he 
desired to revenge himself on the robber by a 
blow ; when, however, he saw that all his efforts 
were useless, he began to abuse the robbers, and 
call them names ; and, truly, the robbers did 
their part in turn, so that the tent 
resounded with strife. Sud- 
denly, the curtains parted and 
a tall, stately man entered the 
tent. He was young, and hand- 
some ; his clothes and weapons, 
with the exception of a richly 
set dagger, and a glittering sword, 
were plain and unassuming; but his flashing 
eyes and his majestic bearing awakened instant 
respect. 

“ Who dares thus to begin strife in my tent ? ” 
he thundered out to the terrified offenders. At 
first there was perfect stillness; but at last the 
robber who had brought Mustapha thither related 
what had taken place. Thereupon the face of this 
trader whom the robber called Fearless grew red 
with anger. “When could I have ever given you 
authority in my place, villain ? ” he cried in a 
terrible voice to the dwarf. The latter shrank so 



166 


THE CAB AVAN. 


within himself, from fear, that he appeared even 
yet smaller than before, as he slunk towards the 
door of the tent. One step of the Fearless was 
sufficient to make the little man dart from the 
tent with one tremendous spring. 

When the dwarf had disappeared, the three 
robbers led Mustapha before the owner of the 
tent, who, by that time, was reclining on the 
cushions. “ Behold, we have brought unto thee 
him whom thou hast commanded us to capture,” 
said one of the robbers. The Fearless looked 
for some time at the captive, and then spoke as 
follows : 

“ Bashaw of Sulieika, thine own reason will 
tell thee why thou now stand est before Orbasan.” 
When my brother heard this, he prostrated him- 
self before the chieftain. “ O, my lord,” he cried, 
“here, surely, is a terrible mistake. I am a poor 
unfortunate man ; but not the Bashaw, whom 
thou seekest.” All in the tent were much sur- 
prised at this speech. But the lord of the tent 
answered, “It availeth thee little to deny who 
thou art; for I will bring before thee people 
who know thee well.” He then ordered Zuleima 
to be brought. An old woman was soon ushered 
into the tent. “Dost thou recognize in this cap- 
tive the Bashaw of Sulieika ?” the chief inquired. 
“Indeed, well do I recognize him,” she replied. 
“ I would swear it by the beard of the Prophet. 


THE CARAVAN. 


1G7 


This is the Bashaw, and none other.” “ Seest 
thou, knave, how thy cunning availeth thee 
naught?” began the Fearless angrily. “Thou 
art too far beneath me for me to deign to soil 
my good dagger with thy blood ; but to-morrow 
morning, at sunrise, I will have thee tied to 
the tail of my horse, and so I will hunt with 
thee through the whole wood, to where it opens 
behind the hills of Sulieika.” Thereupon my 
poor brother’s heart sank within him. “Ah! 
the curse of my hard-hearted father has indeed 
brought me to this awful and premature death,” 
he exclaimed, with tears in his eyes; “and thou, 
sweet sister, and thou, also, Zoraide, art lost for- 
ever.” 

“Your lamentations cannot help you,” said 
one of the robbers to him, as he bound his 
hands behind his back. “You had better come 
from the tent ; for the Fearless bites his lip, and 
is looking at his dagger. If you would live one 
more night, come.” 

Just as the robber was about to lead my brother 
out of the tent, they met three other men, who 
were pushing in a captive. They brought him 
into the tent. “Here have we brought unto 
thee the Bashaw, as thou hast commanded,” 
said they, and dragged their prisoner before the 
chieftain. As the prisoner was led in, my brother 
had the opportunity of examining his face. At 


168 


THE CARAVAN. 


once he saw the resemblance between himself 
and this man. It was most apparent, except 
that the Bashaw’s complexion was darker, and 
he had a black beard. 

The Fearless seemed much astonished at the 
appearance of the two prisoners. “ Which is 
the right one ? ” said he, as he looked first at 
my brother, and then at the other man. “ If 
you mean the Bashaw of Sulieika,” answered the 
prisoner, in a haughty tone, “I am he.” The 
Fearless gazed at him for some minutes with his 
earnest, flashing eyes ; then he motioned to have 
the Bashaw taken away. 

When the robbers had taken the latest captive 
away, the chieftain went up to my brother, cut 
off the bonds with his dagger, and motioned him 
to take a seat on the cushions. “I am very 
sorry, young stranger,” said he, “ that I took 
you for that monster ; but ascribe it as a merci- 
ful ordering of Heaven, which allowed us to 
capture that villain just at the same hour in 
which you fell into the hands of my brothers.” 
Mustapha begged him as his only boon, to allow 
him to go on his journey at once; because delay, 
with him, was a matter of life or death. 

The Fearless inquired what this urgent business 
was, and when Mustapha had told him all, the 
chieftain begged him to remain in his tent that 
night ; for he and his horse would require some 


THE CAB AVAN. 


169 


rest, and the following morning he would show 
him a way which would bring him to Balsora 
in half a day. My brother therefore consented. 
He was handsomely entertained, and slept soundly 
until the next morning, in the robber’s tent. 

When he awoke, he found himself alone ; but 
behind the curtains of the tent, he heard voices 
talking together, which seemed to belong to the 
lord of the tent, and the little dark dwarf. He 
listened for a minute, and heard to his terror, 
that the dwarf v r as doing his best to persuade 
the chief to kill the stranger; because if he 
were set free, he would betray them all to the 
authorities. 

Mustapha saw, at once, that the little man 
bore him a grudge, because he had fared the 
worst in the fray of the day before. The Fearless 
seemed to be thinking fora minute. “No,” said 
he, “he is my guest, and a guest is sacred; be- 
sides, he does not appear to me as one who would 
betray our hiding place.” 

When he had thus spoken, the chieftain pushed 
back the tent curtains and entered. “Joy be 
with thee, Mustapha,” said he. “Let us take 
our morning draught, and then thou canst pre- 
pare for thy journey.” He handed my brother 
a goblet of sherbet, and when they had drunk, 
they mounted their horses ; and truly with a 
lighter heart than had been his for some hours, 


170 


THE CARAVAN. 


Mustapha swung liimself upon his horse’s back. 
They soon left the camp far behind them, and 
entered a wide road, which led into the wood. 

The Fearless told my brother that the Bashaw 
whom his men had captured the day before had 
once sworn that the band should never come to 
harm in his province. Yet a week ago, one of 
their bravest men had been captured, and this 
Bashaw had put him to death in the most cruel 
manner. Since the treachery he had been lying 
in wait for the Bashaw, and now he must die. 
Mustapha did not venture to say anything in 
behalf of the unfortunate man ; he was only too 
glad to get off himself with a whole body. 

At the opening of the wood, the Fearless stopped 
his horse, and described to my brother the way to 
Balsora. He offered his hand for a last farewell, 
and said, “Mustapha, you have, in a strange 
manner, been the guest of the robber Orbasan. 
I will not make you swear not to reveal what 
you have seen or heard. You have, unjustly, 
been made to feel the fears of death, and I owe 
. you some compensation. Take this dagger as 
Tke a keepsake, and when you need help, send 
^66ei° it to me, and I will hasten to your assist- 
^ ance. Take, too, this purse. It may be 
of service to you on your journey.” My brother 
thanked him for his generosity and willingly 
took the dagger ; the purse, however, he refused. 


THE CAB AVAN. 


171 


But Orbasan pressing liis hand once more, let 
the purse fall to the ground, and turning his 
horse galloped off into the woods. 

When Mustapha saw that Orbasan had, appar- 
ently, no idea of returning, he dismounted, and 
picked up the purse ; but he was amazed at the 
liberality of his host ; for the purse contained a 
large amount of gold. He thanked Allah for his 
preservation, commended to his care the noble 
robber and his band, and with a light heart went 
forward on his way to Balsora. 

Lezah left off speaking, and looked at Achmet, 
the oldest merchant, interrogatively. 

“Well, if this be so,” said Achmet, “then I 
will have a better opinion of Orbasan ; for truly, 
he acted handsomely toward your brother.” 

“ He acted like a true Mussulman,” exclaimed 
Muley ; “ but I hope you have not finished your 
story ; for we are all anxious to hear more of 
your brother’s adventures, and whether he ever 
rescued Fatme, his sister, and the fair Zoraide.” 

“ If it does not weary you, I will, with pleasure, 
tell you more ; for my brother’s story is, indeed, 
marvelous throughout, and full of adventures.” 

At noon, on the seventh day of his journey, 
Mustapha entered the gate of Balsora. As soon 
as he had reached the first caravansary, he asked 


172 


THE CAB AVAN. 


when the slave market, which was held there each 
year, would begin. To his horror, he received 
the answer that he had come just two days too 
late. They told him that he had missed one of 
their finest sales; for, on the last day of the 
market, two slaves had ueen offered for sale 
whose exquisite beauty attracted the eyes of all. 
Men had fought together for the privilege of 
buying them. But they were held at so high 
a price that there was only one in the city who 
could afford such a purchase ; and he was now 
their owner. 

Mustapha made more minute inquiries about 
these slaves and concluded that without doubt 
they were the unfortunate ones he sought. He 
also learned that the man who had purchased the 
two slaves lived about forty hours journey from 
Balsora. His place was called Thiuli-Kos. He 
was distinguished and rich, but was quite an old 
man; he had been, in earlier years, the chief 
Bashaw of the grand signor, but he had now, 
with his accumulated riches, retired from public 
life. 

Mustapha’s first impulse was to spring again 
to horse and hasten to the Castle of Thiuli-Kos, 
which was only a day’s journey from where he 
was. But when he remembered that he could 
not safely take the long journey alone, still 
less venture to carry with him the purse, he 


THE CAE AVAN. 


173 


thought of another plan which he soon carried 
out. The great resemblance between himself 
and the Bashaw of Sulieika, which had so nearly 
cost him his life, suggested the idea of visiting 
Thiuli-Kos under that name. Thus he could ex- 
amine the castle, and find out the best means of 
rescuing the two unfortunate maidens. For this 
purpose he hired horses 
and servants ; for 
this Orbasan’s gold 
came in well. He 
arrayed himself 
and servants in ^ 
elegant clothes, 
and started on his way 
toward Thiuli Castle. 



#The Cattle of Thiuli-^ 
In two days he came in sight of the castle. It 


was built on a beautiful plain, and was surrounded 
by a wall almost as high as the building itself. 

Before going to the castle, Mustapha dyed his 
hair and beard black ; his face he smeared with 
the juice of a plant which gave his skin a brown- 
ish hue quite like that of the Bashaw ; then he 
went to the castle and sent in a servant, request- 
ing lodging for the night under the name of the 
Bashaw of Sulieika. 

The servant soon returned, and with him four 
slaves clothed in rich apparel. Taking Musta- 
pha’s horse by the bridle, they led it into the castle 


174 


THE CAE AVAN. 


court. Here they helped him to dismount, 
whereupon four other servants conducted him 
up a wide flight of marble steps, into the castle. 

In this fine old castle my brother was treated 
with great consideration and hospitality ; the 
best that the cook could produce was set before 
him. After he had partaken of the refreshments, 
he turned the conversation to the subject of the 
two new slaves. Thiuli (as the lord of the 
castle was called) extolled their beauty, but 
regretted that they always seemed so sad ; he 
hoped, however, that would soon wear off. My 
brother was very much pleased with this begin- 
ning, and laid himself down to rest, that night, 
with good hopes of rescuing the two maidens. 

He had slept about an hour, when he was 
awakened by the shining of a lamp held over his 
face. He had raised himself on his couch and 
thought, surely, that he was dreaming ; for there 
before him stood the little dark-brown dwarf 
from Orbasan’s tent, a lamp in his hand, and 
his large mouth wide open with laughter. 

Mustapha pinched himself to ascertain if he 
were really awake, but the figure still stood 
before him. “ What do you wish at my bed- 
side?” cried out Mustapha, when he had some- 
what recovered from the surprise. “ Do not 
excite yourself, sir,” replied the dwarf. “ I 
know well for what you have come hither; 


THE CARAVAN. 


175 


neither was your natural face concealed from 
me ; though truly, if I had not myself helped to 
hang that very Bashaw of Sulieika, I would have 
been deceived by your disguise. But now I 
have come to make you an offer.” 

“Tell me, at once, whence you came,” ex- 
claimed Mustapha in a rage at having been dis- 
covered. 

“I will tell you,” answered the dwarf. “I 
could not agree any longer with the Fearless, 


"Fie DwiT P 

pecogmze^ 

fdvsta.pkfc.. 

r*<\ 



therefore, I fled ; but you, 

Mustapha, were the first 
cause of our disagree- 
ment ; you must there- 
fore give me your 
sister to be my wife, 
and I will help you 
to rescue her. If you 
refuse me this, then I will go to my new master 
and tell him something about the new Bashaw.” 

My brother was nearly beside himself with 
fear and rage. Now, just as he believed himself 
to be on the point of accomplishing the object of 
his journey, this wretch must come up and spoil 
it all. There was only one thing which could 
save his plan ; he must kill the hateful dwarf. 

With this determination, Mustapha sprang out 
of his bed toward the dwarf. But the latter, 
perhaps anticipating this result, let the lamp 


176 


THE CAB AVAN. 


fall so that it went out, and, uttering fearful 
yells for help, he slipped off in the darkness. 

Now, indeed, would good advice have been 
precious. My brother saw that he must, for the 
time, give up the cause of the captive maidens, and 
think of self-preservation. He went, therefore, 
to the window to see if he could not spring out. 
It was somewhat too high from the ground, and 
on the further side of the courtyard there 
was a high wall which must be climbed over. 
He stood for a moment in doubt what to do ; 
then he heard the sound of many voices 
approaching his room ; already they were at 
the door. Becoming desperate, he seized his 
dagger and clothes, and swung himself out of 
the window. The fall was stunning ; but he 
found that he had broken no bones. He sprang 
up, and ran to the wall which inclosed the yard ; 
and to the astonishment of his pursuers, climbed 
over it, and soon found himself clear of all pur- 
suit. He fled until he came to a small wood, 
where, exhausted, he threw himself down on the 
ground. 

Here he quickly considered what next was 
the best course to pursue. His horses and 
servants he had been obliged to leave behind; 
but the gold, which he carried in his girdle, he 
had saved. 

His inventive mind soon showed him another 


THE CAB AVAN. 


177 


mode of rescuing the maidens. He went through 
the wood until he came to a village, where at 
a very low price, he bought a horse that carried 
him in a short time to the city of Balsora. Ar- 
rived there he inquired for the best physician 
in Balsora, and was recommended to an old and 
experienced man. Mustapha persuaded the old 
man, by means of a gold piece, to sell him a 
medicine that would produce a death-like sleep, 
which could be removed by means of another 
medicine. 

When my brother had possession of these 
potions, he bought a long false beard, a black 
gown, some books and instruments, so that he 
might pass for a traveling physician. Loading 
an ass with these things, he set out for Thiuli- 
Kos. He was certain, this time, of not being 
recognized ; for the beard so changed his appear- 
ance, that he scarcely knew himself. 

When he arrived at Thiuli-Kos, he had himself 
announced as the Physician Chakamankabudi- 
baba. As he had anticipated, the splendid name 
gave him great importance in the eyes of the 
simple old lord, who at once invited him to 
dinner. He had been there less than an hour, 
when the lord determined to have this wise 
physician examine the condition of the health of 
all his female slaves. 

Mustapha could scarcely conceal his joy at 


178 


THE CARAVAN. 


the thought that he. would now see again his 
beloved sister; and with a beating heart he 
followed Thiuli to the seraglio. 

They, entered a room which was elegantly 
furnished, but found no one in it. “My dear 
doctor, Chambaba, or whatever you are called,” 
said Thiuli, “do you see that hole in 
the wall ? through that each of my 
slaves will, one by one, pass their 
arms, and you can then feel their 
pulses and see if they are in good 
health.” 

Mustapha might look which way he 
liked, he could not see their faces, yet 
Thiuli expected him to tell the general 
health of each one. 

Thiuli drew out of his girdle a long paper, 
and began to call his slaves, one by one, by 
name. A hand was stretched through the hole 
in the wall at each name, and the physician felt 
the pulse. Six had been called, and declared in 
good health, when Thiuli read out the seventh 
name, Fatme, and thereupon a little white hand 
was stretched through the hole in the wall. 
Trembling with joy, Mustapha seized the hand, 
and with a grave, anxious expression on his face, 
declared her to be quite sick. Thiuli was very 
much concerned, and ordered the wise Chaka- 



THE CAliA VAN. 


179 


mankabudibaba to prepare, with all speed, a 
remedy for the sick slave. 

The physician went out and wrote on a little 
sheet of paper, “ Fatme, I can rescue you if you 
will take this medicine, which for two days, will 
make you appear as dead ; but I possess the means 
of bringing you again to life. If you consent 
to this, send me word that the medicine has 
not relieved you, and it shall be to me a sign 
that you have agreed to my plan.” The physi- 
cian then returned to the room where he had 
left Thiuli. He brought with him a little harm- 
less medicine, went again to the wall to feel the 
sick Fatme’s pulse, and at the same time pushed 
the note under her bracelet. The drink, how- 
ever, he handed her openly through the hole in 
the wall. 

Thiuli seemed to be very much troubled at 
Fatme’s sickness, and put off inquiring as to the 
health of the other slaves for some future day. 

When he and Mustapha had left the room he 
said in a melancholy tone, “ Chadibaba, tell me 
frankly what you think of Fatme’s condition ? ” 
Chakamankabudibaba answered with a deep sigh, 
“ Alas ! my lord, may the Prophet send you com- 
fort. She has a lingering fever from which she 
cannot recover. ” Thereupon Thiuli grew very 
angry, and said, “ What do you say, you cursed 
dog of a physician ? Shall she for whom I paid 


180 


THE CAB AVAN. 


two thousand gold pieces die of a fever ? Know 
this ; that if you do not cure her, your head shall 
be hewn from your body ! ” 

My brother now perceived that he had been 
too hasty, so he gave Thiuli some hope. 

There now entered a black slave who came 
from the seraglio, to tell the physician that the 
medicine had done no good. “Do all in your 
power to save her, Chakamadabelda, or whatever 
you are called, and I will pay you all you ask,” 
cried Thiuli, half beside himself at the thought 
of such a loss. 

“ I will give her a drink which will free her 
from all danger,” answered the physician. 

“ 0, yes ! by all means give her some remedy,” 
replied the old lord. 

Mustapha went rejoicing to fetch his sleeping 
draught. When he had given it to the slave, 
and showed him how much was to be taken at 
once, he returned to Thiuli, and said he must 
now fetch some medicinal herbs from the sea, 
and hastened out of the gate. 

When he reached the seashore, which was not 
far distant from the castle, he pulled off his 
disguise and threw it into the sea, where it 
floated on the surface of the water. He, him- 
self, however, hid in the bushes. Here he 
waited until night, and then crept stealthily 
into the graveyard of Thiuli’s castle. 


THE CAB AVAN. 


181 


In less than an hour after Mustapha’s depart- 
ure from the castle, Thiuli received the news 
that Fatme was dying. At once he sent to the 
seashore to capture the physician ; but the slaves 
soon returned with tidings that the poor physi- 
cian had fallen into the sea and been drowned ; 
his long black cloak could be seen floating on the 
water, and once his venerable beard had even ap- 
peared above the waves. 

When Thiuli saw that there was no redress, he 
cursed himself and all the world, tore his beard 
and beat his head against the wall. 

When, however, they brought him word that 
Fatme was dead, Thiuli ordered her coffin to be 
made immediately ; for he could not suffer a 
dead body to remain in his house an hour. He 
therefore had the bier borne to the graveyard at 
V>nce. 

The bearers bore the coffin thither, set it down 
quickly and fled ; for they thought they heard, 
coming from some of the other graves, sighs and 
groans. Mustapha, who was hiding behind one 
of the graves, had himself uttered the groans and 
sighs to frighten off the slaves. He now ap- 
proached the coffin and lit a lamp that he had 
brought with him. He produced a bottle which 
contained the restoring medicine, and raised the 
lid of Fatme’s coffin. But ah ! what was his sur- 
prise to see, by the light of his lamp, a perfect 


182 


THE CAE AVAN. 


stranger. Neither his sister, nor yet Zoraide, 
lay in the coffin, but one whom he had never be- 
fore seen. 

It was some time before Mustapha recovered 
from this last blow of Fate ; but at last his anger 
gave place to pity. He opened his bottle and 
poured some of the medicine down the slave’s 
throat. She breathed — she opened her eyes — ■ 
she seemed wondering where she was. She at 
length seemed to recall the whole 
occurrence. She sprang out of the 
coffin and knelt at Mustapha’s feet. 
“How can I thank you,” cried 
she, “ 0, kind deliverer, for freeing 
me from that dreadful slavery ! ” 

Mustapha interrupted her flow of gratitude, 
with the question how had it happened that she 
and not his sister Fatme had been rescued ? 

She looked at him for a moment and then ex- 
claimed, “Now, for the first time, I understand 
my rescue, which was before a mystery to me. 
This is the mistake. I am called Fatme in that 
castle, and you gave me the card and the medi- 
cine ! ” 

My brother asked her to give him some news 
of his sister and Zoraide. Fatme informed him 
that they were both in the castle, but were called 
by two other names — Mirza and Nurmahal. 

When Fatme, the rescued slave, saw how sad 



THE CAB AVAN. 


183 


and downcast my brother looked at this intelli- 
gence, she promised to show him a way by which 
he could save both the maidens. 

Encouraged by this idea, Mustapha’s hope re- 
vived, and he begged her to tell him what she 
meant. She answered him as follows : — 

“For five months I have been Thiuli’s slave. 
I have been planning from the beginning, some 
means of freeing myself ; but without assistance 
I could not carry out my plans. In the inner 
court of the castle you have perhaps noticed a 
fountain which throws its jets of water out of 
ten tubes. This fountain attracted my attention. 
There was a fimilar one in my father’s garden, 
the waters of which were forced up through a 
broad canal. Now to learn whether this fount- 
ain was so constructed, I praised its beauty and 
power before Thiuli and asked him the name of 
the architect. 

“ ‘ I constructed it myself,’ he answered, ‘ and 
what you see here is the least part of the work, 
for the water comes from a bay at least ten thou- 
sand paces distant and flows here through a wide 
canal, the shallowest part of which is four feet 
deep. All this I planned myself.’ 

“ After I had heard this, I often wished ear- 
nestly that , if but for a few minutes, I had the 
strength of a man, that I might raise one of the 
huge stones in the wall by the side of the fount- 


184 


THE CAB AVAN. 


ain. Then I might have fled whither I would. 
I will now show you the canal through which 
you can enter the castle and free those whom 
you seek. But you must have with you at least 
two men to overpower the two slaves that guard 
the seraglio at night.” 

When the slave had finished speaking, Mus- 
tapha, although twice disappointed in his hopes, 
yet again took courage and hoped, with Allah’s 
help, to carry out the slave’s plan. 

He promised to see her safely to her own 
home if she would help him to enter the castle. 
But one thought somewhat dimmed his hope ; 
where could he secure two or three faithful 
assistants ? He suddenly remembered Orbasan’s 
dagger, and the robber’s promise to hasten to his 
assistance in any time of need. He therefore 
started off at once with Fatme the slave, in search 
of the robber chief. 

In the same village where he had disguised 
himself as a physician, Mustapha now with almost 
the last of his money bought a horse. He lodged 
the slave with a poor woman in the village, until 
he should return. He then hastened to the hills 
where he had first met Orbasan, and in three 
days he reached his destination. Entering the 
tent of Orbasan unannounced, he was cordially 
welcomed. 

Mustapha related his unsuccessful attempts to 


THE CAB AVAN. 


185 



rescue his sister. The grave Orbasan could not 
forbear laughing now and then at the strange 
adventures, and especially at the name, Chaka- 
mankabudibaba. But as the behavior of the 
dark dwarf was described, he grew furious, and 
swore to hang him with his own hands, on what- 
ever spot he should find him. He promised my 
brother to accompany him with his men to 
Thiuli-Kos Castle as soon as Mus- 
tapha had rested from the fatigue 
of his hasty journey. 

Mustapha remained that night 
in Orbasan’s tent, but with 
the earliest morning light, 
they started on their journey " 

Orbasan took with him 
three of his strongest and 
bravest men, well mounted 
and well armed. 

They rode rapidly, and in two days reached the 
little village where Mustapha had left the res- 
cued slave. From here they rode with the slave 
to the wood from which they could see a short dis- 
tance away, the castle of Thiuli. There they dis- 
mounted and waited for the night. As soon as 
it was dark, guided by Fatme, they crept along 
the side of the bay, until they reached the open- 
ing of the canal. Here they left the slave 
Fatme, and one of the robbers with the horses, 



Thiuli j 

[~ Our\tb.MV 


186 


THE CAB AVAN. 



and proceeded to follow the canal ; but before 
they separated, Fatme repeated to them her di- 
rections, namely, that when they came 
to the fountain in the inner castle 
court, they would see two towers ; one 
W, on the right side and one on the left. 
JK'If they would enter at the sixth door, 
counting from the right-hand side, they 
would find Mustapha’s sister Fatme? 
and Zoraide, guarded by two black slaves. 

Well provided with weapons and crowbars, 
Mustapha, Orbasan and two others, descended 
into the canal. They sank about up to their gir- 
dles, but went forward none the^ less actively. 
Within half an hour they reached the fountain, 
and at once set to work with their crowbars. 

The stone wail was thick and firm, but it 
could not long resist the united strength of four 
men, and they soon made an opening large enough 
to slip through into the court. Orbasan passed 
through first, and helped the others to follow. 

When they were all in the court, they looked 
around to make sure of entering the door de- 
scribed by the slave Fatme. But they were not 
certain which it was ; for as they counted toward 
the right side of the tower, they found one door 
which was walled up, and they could not tell 
whether Fatme had counted this door or not. 
But Orbasan did not stop long to consider. “My 


THE CARAVAN. 


187 


good sword shall open to me every entrance 
way/’ lie whispered, and went up to the sixth 
door, the others following. They opened the 
door and found six black slaves lying asleep on 
the floor. They were about to go softly out 
again, seeing that they had entered the wrong 
door, when a figure in the corner raised itself up, 
and in a well-known voice, called for help. It 
was the dwarf of the robber’s tent. 

Before the slaves knew what had happened, 
Orbasan strode up to the dwarf, tore his girdle 
in two, gagged his mouth and bound his hands 
behind his back. The chieftain then turned on 
the slaves, three of whom Mustapha and the two 
robbers had already bound, and now with Orba- 
san’s help, the remainder were secured. They 
pointed their daggers at the breasts of the slaves 
and asked where Nurmahal and Mirza were. 
They received the answer that they were in the 
adjoining apartment. 

Mustapha entered the room. There, to his 
delight, he found Fatme and Zoraide, who had 
been awakened by the noise. By his direction 
they hastily gathered together their jewels and 
clothing, and followed Mustapha. 

In the meanwhile the two robbers proposed to 
Orbasan that they should take with them all the 
valuables within their reach; but Orbasan for- 
bade it, saying, “No one shall have cause to say 


188 


THE CAE AVAN. 


of Orbasan that he breaks into houses in the 
night, to steal gold.” 

Mustapha and the two rescued maidens slipped 
quickly through the hole in the wall, and down 
into the canal, whither Orbasan promised to fol- 
low immediately. 

When the others had descended into the canal, 
Orbasan and one of the robbers took the dwarf 
and led him out into the courtyard. Here they 
tied around his neck a thick cord, which they 
had brought with them for the purpose, and 
hung him on the highest point of the fountain. 
When they had thus punished the knave for his 
rascality, they descended into the canal and fol- 
lowed Mustapha. 

With tears of joy and gratitude the two res- 
cued maidens thanked the chieftain. Orbasan, 
however, bade them tarry not, but hasten on 
their journey. For, said he, “Thiuli will proba- 
bly send out and search for you in all directions.” 
The next day Mustapha and the maidens parted 
from the noble Orbasan with many words of 
thanks and gratitude. 

Fatme, the freed slave, was escorted to Balsora. 
From there she was sent by ship to her own 
home. 

After a short and pleasant journey, Mustapha, 
Fatme, and Zoraide arrived at my father’s house. 
The old man was nearly frantic with joy at the 


THE CAE AVAN. 


189 


return of his dear ones. The day after their 
arrival he prepared a great feast in which the 
whole town took part. 

Before a large assembly of friends and towns- 
people, my brother had to relate his adventures, 
and the whole assembly unani- 
mously praised, in the highest 
terms, both his and the noble 
robber’s bravery. 

When my brother had finished 
his story, my father arose and 
led Zoraide to Mustapha. “ Now,” 
said he, in a joyous voice, “do I 
raise my curse from off your 
head. Take this beautiful mai- 
den as the reward which by your untiring zeal 
you have earned for yourself. Receive my 
blessing; and may the men of our city never 
fail, while the city lasts, to imitate your example 
of brotherly love, wisdom and zeal.” 

J 

The caravan had now reached the end of the 
desert. The weary travelers greeted with rap- 
ture the soft green turf and the trees with their 
thick green foliage. 

Near the opening of the desert, in a beautiful 
valley, stood a caravansary. The merchants 
therefore agreed to take a day’s rest in this 
tempting place. This was desirable both for 



190 


THE CAB AVAN. 


themselves, and also for the sake of their fired 
animals, that they might lay in new strength for 
the remainder of their journey. 

The day was spent in outdoor amusements; 
but when supper was over they called upon the 
youngest merchant to tell them of some adven- 
ture, or to relate some story, to while away the 
evening. 

Muley, thus called upon, replied that his life 
had been without any adventure worthy of 
record ; but he would tell them, with pleasure, 
the story of the False Prince. 



TIIE CARAVAN. 


191 



There was once in Alexandria a tailor’s appren- 
tice named Labakan, who was learning his trade 
under one of the masters of the craft. 

It could not be said of Labakan that he was 
unskilled with his needle. As a rule he could 
do fine work. Neither could it justly be said 
that he was lazy ; and yet he was altogether dif- 
ferent from his companions. There were times 
at which he would sit sewing for hours without 
the slightest intermission, turning out finer work 
than could any of his companions. But at other 
times, and alas, these times occurred more fre- 
quently, he sat motionless, as if in the deepest 
meditation, his eyes staring straight before him, 
but fixed on no particular object. 

At such times he had in his face and indeed 
in his whole bearing, something so proud and 
forbidding that his companions and his master 
never remarked upon it in his presence, more 
than to say to one another, “ Labakan has on 
his proud fit again.” 


192 


THE CAB AVAN. 


On holidays when other people were going 
quietly home after the public service, Labakan 
would stride from the mosque dressed in hand- 
some robes, which he had, with great trouble, 
made for himself. With grave and haughty 
mien he would walk through the principal 
squares and streets of the city. If any of his 
companions saluted him with “ Good day, Laba- 
kan ! ” he would give a slight wave of his hand, 
or perhaps a short nod of recognition. When 
his master at such times would say to him in 
ridicule, “ I declare, Labakan, a prince has been 
lost in you,” he would brighten up, and answer 
quite complacently, “Have you, also, noticed 
that ? ” or, “ So 1 have long thought.” 

Labakan had gone on in this way for some 
time ; but his master bore with his foolery, be- 
cause the lad was, in the main, a young man of 
good habits and a skilled workman. 

One day when Selim, the brother of the sul- 
tan, was visiting Alexandria, he sent to the mas- 
ter-tailor an order for a court robe, which he 
wished to have made entirely by one person. 
The master-tailor gave the job to Labakan, 
because he could turn out the finest work. 

In the evening of the day on which the robe 
was finished, the master and the other appren- 
tices had left the shop to take a little exercise 
after their day’s work. Labakan was filled with 


THE CARAVAN. 


193 


so sudden and irresistible a longing for riches 
and splendor, that to gratify this he returned to 
the workroom where Selim’s court robe hung. 
He stood before the garment for some time, lost 
in thought. At last, dazzled by the glittering of 
the embroidery, or fascinated by the beautiful 
combination of colors, and the quality of the 
silk, he gave way to a temptation he could not 
resist. He threw the robe over his own shoul- 
ders. It fitted him as perfectly as if it had been 
made for him. “Am I not as good a prince as 
any one ? ” he asked himself, as he paced up and 
down the room. “ Has not the master himself 
said to me often that I was born to be a prince ? ” 
With the robe he put on also a kingly manner; 
indeed he could not help thinking that he was 
the son of a king. As such he determined to 
leave a place where the people were so simple as 
not to discover beneath the cover of his humble 
trade, his noble birth. He would travel through 
the world. The magnificent robe seemed sent to 
him by some good fairy. He could not refuse 
such a present. His mind was soon made up. 
Putting into a bundle all his small possessions, 
he left the tailor’s shop and went joyfully out 
of the gate of Alexandria, into the darkness of 
the night. 

Wherever he went the new prince excited 
much wonder and surprise. His magnificent 


194 


THE CARAVAN. 



V M 

tol enrobe- 


robe, his solemn manner and majestic bearing, 
were not at all suited to the character of a foot- 
traveler. When asked why he did not ride, he 
would answer, “ For reasons of my own.” 
But when he saw that his going about 
on foot only made himself a laugh- 
ing-stock, he bought for a small 
sum an old horse just suited to his 
needs. Its steady pace, its gentle- 
ness and lack of tricks never brought 
him into danger; for although he 
assumed the air of a skillful rider, yet horseman- 
ship was certainly not his forte. 

One day as, mounted upon Murva (so he had 
named his horse), he rode slowly along a rider 
overtook him and asked permission to ride in his 
company, because he said the way would seem 
so much shorter when one had some one to con- 
verse with instead of riding along in silence. 

The stranger was a handsome young man, 
merry and agreeable. He soon opened a conver- 
sation with Labakan, commencing with the usual 
questions, as to whence he came and whither he 
was bound. It seemed that he, like the tailor- 
apprentice, was traveling out into the world, 
with no particular plans for the future. His 
name, he said, was Omar ; he was the nephew of 
Elfi Bey, the unfortunate Bashaw of Cairo. 
Just now he was traveling to execute a commis- 


THE CAB AVAN. 


195 


sion, which his uncle, the Bashaw, had disclosed 
to him on his deathbed. 

Labakan was not so communicative as to his 
own affairs, and gave the young man to under- 
stand that he was of noble birth and was travel- 
ing for pleasure. 

The young men found pleasure in each other’s 
society, and rode on in company. On the second 
day of their journey Labakan asked his com- 
panion Omar about the commission which he had 
mentioned. The answer filled him with astonish- 
ment. Omar confided to him that Elfi Bey, the 
Bashaw of Cairo, had taken care of him from his 
earliest childhood ; he had never known his own 
parents. When, however, Elfi Bey had been over- 
thrown by his enemies, and after three unsuccess- 
ful battles had been carried from the field mortally 
wounded, the Bashaw had disclosed to his young 
charge that he was not really his nephew. He 
was, so said Elfi Bey, the son of a mighty sultan, 
who, disturbed by the prophecies of the astrol- 
ogers, had sent the child from his domains, with 
the oath that he would not see him again until 
his twenty-second birthday. Elfi Bey had not 
disclosed his father’s name. He had bidden the 
young man seek out, on the fourth day of the 
coming month, Ramadan, on which day he would 
be twenty-two years of age, the celebrated statue 


196 


THE CAE AVAN. 


of El-Serujah. This was four days’ journey east- 
ward from Alexandria. 

There Omar was to hand to the men whom he 
would find standing by the statue a dagger which 
the Bashaw had given him, at the 
same time saying, “ Here am I 
ye seek.” And if they answered, 
be the Prophet who has preserved 
was then to follow them and they 
would conduct him to his father the sultan. 

Labakan was surprised beyond measure at this 
communication. Thenceforward he looked upon 
Prince Omar with envious eyes. It angered him 
to think how partial Fate was to this young man. 
It was not enough that he already passed for the 
nephew of a great Bashaw, but he must now 
have conferred on him the greater title of the 
son of the Sultan. On the other hand he, Laba- 
kan, whom everybody said was born to be a 
prince, was subjected to scorn, was of obscure par- 
entage, and must work his own way through life. 

Thus unfavorably he compared his fate with 
that of the prince. He could not but admit to 
himself that Omar was a princely-looking young 
fellow. His eyes were bright and sparkling, his 
form was faultless, his nose shapely. His de- 
portment was polite and easy ; in short, so far as 
one could judge from appearances, he was all 
that any king could desire in a son. 



THE CAB AVAN. 


197 


But Labakan thought himself fully as fasci- 
nating in every way as was Omar. He did not 
doubt that were he Omar he would be as heartily 
welcomed by the sultan as the true prince. 

These reflections occupied Labakan’s mind all 
day ; that night he fell asleep with them still on 
his mind. 

When early next morning he awoke and his 
eyes fell on Omar, who lay next him, sleeping so 
peacefully, perhaps dreaming of his coming for- 
tune, the thought suddenly struck Labakan to 
obtain, through cunning or violence, what unjust 
fate had denied to him. 

The dagger, the signal of the home-bound 
prince, was sticking in the sleeper’s girdle. La- 
bakan drew it out softly, with the intention of 
plunging it into its owner’s breast. But the 
manliness and innocence of this young companion, 
who lay there sleeping so trustingly and peace- 
fully, pleaded with his conscience against so 
foul a deed. He therefore contented himself 
with taking possession of the dagger, and the 
prince’s fast horse, on which he galloped off. 
When Omar awoke and discovered that he had 
been robbed of all his hopes, his faithless com- 
panion had already many miles the advantage of 
him. 

It was on the first day of the sacred month, 
Ramadan, when Labakan committed the robbery 


198 


THE CAB AVAN. 


on the poor Prince Omar. He had yet four days 
in which to reach the statue of El-Serujah. He 
knew that the hill on which the famous statue 
stood was not more than two days’ journey from 
where he then was ; but he hastened on with 
all speed, in constant fear lest the prince should 
overtake him. 

At the end of the first day Labakan came in 
sight of the statue of El-Serujah. It stood on a 
little hill in the midst of a great plain and could 
be seen for miles around. Labakan’s heart beat 
fast at this sight; he had found time enough, 
during the day’s solitary journey, to reflect on 
the mean trick he had practiced ; he was begin- 
ning to feel somewhat uneasy. But the thought 
that he was born to be a prince reassured him. 
His resolution was strengthened ; and with never- 
slackening speed he rode on, fixed in his purpose 
more confidently than ever. 

The region round about the statue of El-Seru- 
jah was uninhabited. It was very rocky, and 
the false prince had some difficulty in riding 
over the uneven ground. At the end of the 
second day, however, he reached the appointed 
spot ; and resting himself and horse under a 
palm-tree, awaited with impatience, his coming 
destiny. 

Toward the middle of the next day he saw 
approaching toward the statue, a long procession 


THE CARAVAN. 


199 


of horses and camels. The procession halted at 
the foot of the hill on which the statue stood. 
Magnificent tents were pitched, 
which glittered in the sun- 
light like the caravan of some 
wealthy Bashaw or Sheik. 

Labakan conjectured that 
the great number of people 
he saw had journeyed thither 
in quest of him. He be- 
lieved that they would 
gladly have welcomed him 
at once as their future 
master and lord. But he 
restrained his first 
impulse to come for- 
ward and announce 
himself as the 
prince; he knew 
that on the morrow 
the dream of his life would be gratified. 

The morning sun awakened the happy tailor 
to the most important era of his life. This was 
the day that was to raise him from his humble 
sphere to be the son of a mighty prince ; but, 
while bridling his horse, preparatory to riding to 
the statue, he thought, with some compunction, 
of the dishonest and unlawful means he had re- 
sorted- to that he might obtain his end; he 




200 


THE CAB AVAN. 


thought of the pain and disappointment of the 
defrauded young prince when he found that all 
his hopes and expectations were frustrated. 
But the die was cast ; he could not undo what 
he had already done ; and his selfishness whis- 
pered to him that he was stately enough in ap- 
pearance to claim the mightiest king for his 
father. 

Encouraged by this idea, he mounted his steed, 
summoned all his strength and nerve to ride at 
full gallop, and in less than a quarter of an hour 
he had reached the foot of the hill. He dis- 
mounted from his horse, fastened it to one of 
the bushes which grew around the hill, drew out 
Prince Omar’s dagger, and ascended the hill. 

At the base of the statue there stood six men 
around an old man of noble and kingly aspect. 
A gorgeous garment of cloth of gold, and turban 
richly ornamented with precious stones, bespoke 
his wealth and rank. 

Labakan went straight up to the old man, 
bowed low before him and said, while offering 
the dagger, “ Behold, here am I whom you seek ! ” 

“ Now praised be the Prophet who hath pre- 
served you,” answered the king, with tears of 
joy. “Come to the arms of your 'old father, my 
beloved son, my Omar! ” 

Labakan was much moved by this heartfelt 
greeting. With feelings of mingled joy and 


THE CAB AVAN. 


201 


shame, he threw himself into the arms of the old 
sultan. But he was only to enjoy the triumph 
of his new position undisturbed for a moment ; 
for, as he raised himself from the arms of the 
old prince, he saw a rider hastening over the 
plain toward the hill. The rider and his horse 
presented a curious picture. The horse which 
seemed either from stubbornness or fatigue, un- 
willing to move, advanced at a stumbling gait, 
which was neither a pace nor a trot, while the 
rider urged him on with whip and spurs. 

At once Labakan recognized in horse and rider 
his own sorry steed, Murva, and the true prince, 
Omar. But having once yielded to the dictates 
of falsehood and deceit, he determined, if it were 
possible, to maintain his assumed right with the 
most persevering obstinacy. 

The other men now espied the rider in the dis- 
tance. In a few moments, in spite of the stum- 
bling gait of the old horse, the rider had reached 
the foot of the hill. He flung himself from the 
horse and hastened to the group before the 
statue. “Hold there,” he exclaimed; “behold 
whom you have before you. Stay, and be not 
deceived by that basest of scoundrels. I am 
Omar ; no mortal shall dare to asume my name ! ” 

At this surprising turn of things, great amaze- 
ment appeared on the faces of the bystanders. 
Especially did the old sultan seem sadly per- 


202 


„ THE CARAVAN. 


plexed as he gazed inquiringly first at one and 
then at the other of the two rivals. 

But Labakan, with a feigned calmness, which, 
after a hard struggle, he succeeded in assuming, 
now spoke. “ Most mighty prince and father,” 
he said, “ be not disturbed by yonder man. If I 
be not mistaken, he is a crack-brained tailor’s 
apprentice from Alexandria, called Labakan, who 
rather deserves our pity than our anger.” 

These words infuriated the young prince to 
nich a degree that he was almost beside himself 
with rage. He would have rushed upon Labakan 
and closed with him in mortal struggle, had not 
certain of ther bystanders thrown themselves be- 
tween the two, while others seized hold of Omar 
and held him fast. 

“Truly, my dear son,” said the old sultan, “the 
poor man is sadly out of his mind.” Then turn- 
ing to his servants, he said, “bind him and fasten 
him on one of our camels; later, we may, 



subsided, and he now 
cried out to the sultan, his 


THE CAB AVAN. 


203 


father, while the tears forced themselves into 
his eyes : “ My heart tells me that you are my 
father. I charge you, for the love of my mother, 
to hear me out ! ” 

“ Now the Prophet defend us ! ” exclaimed the 
sultan ; “ already he has commenced again to rave 
as madly as any maniac.” 

And then, leaning on Labakan’s arm, he has- 
tened down the hill. There the party mounted 
upon fine steeds and rode off toward the sultan’s 
palace. The unfortunate prince with his hands 
bound, was fastened securely on one of the 
camels, while two horsemen rode on either side, 
and kept a strict watch on his every movement. 

The old prince was Saaud, the sultan of Wech- 
abitan. For many years he had lived without 
children, but at last, to his great delight, a son 
was born to him. It was then that the astrolo- 
gers, whom he consulted as to the boy’s fate, 
prophesied that until his twenty -second birthday, 
he was in great danger of being dispossessed of 
his rights by an enemy. On account of this 
prophecy, and for the sake of his boy’s safety, 
the sultan intrusted the lad to the care of a 
faithful and well-tried friend, Elfi Bey, who was 
to take care of him until the appointed time. 
He himself had waited patiently for two-and- 
twenty years, in fear and anxiety. 

All this the sultan now told Labakan, his sup- 


204 


THE CAB AVAN. 


posed son, and showed himself more than satis- 
fied with the young man’s graceful form and 
with his dignified bearing. 

As soon as they had 
come to the first 



village in the 
sultan’s dominions, they 
were greeted with shouts 
of joy, for the news 
of the prince’s arrival 
had spread like wildfire 
through all the towns and 
villages. 

On all the streets through which 
they were to pass were arches of 
flowers and evergreens ; the windows and doors 
of the houses were decked with gorgeous tapes- 
try, and the people gave praise to the great 
Prophet, who had preserved for them so hand- 
some a prince. All this filled the proud heart 
of the tailor with delight. 

Very different were the feelings of poor Prince 
Omar, who, silent and in despair, still followed in 
the procession, fast bound on the camel. Amid 
the general jubilee in which he should have been 
the chief actor, no one cared for him. 

Thousands upon thousands of voices shouted 
with cheers the name of Omar ; but he to whom 
that name rightly belonged, was hailed by none. 


THE CARAVAN. 


205 


Occasionally people asked one another who this 
could be that was so securely bound to the camel ; 
and dreadful indeed did it sound to the ears of 
the prince, as his guards answered, “ Oh ! he’s 
only a crazy tailor.” 

At last the procession reached the capital of 
the sultan’s domains. Here all was in readiness 
to receive the prince with even greater splendor. 
The sultana, a venerable old lady, awaited his 
arrival, with all her attendants, in the magnifi- 
cent throne room. The floor was covered with 
the softest carpet, the walls were hung with 
gorgeous tapestry, looped back with gold cords 
and tassels and fastened by silver clasps. 

It was quite dark when the procession reached 
the palace, and the rooms were hung with 
colored lamps, their brilliancy turning the night 
into day. The clearest and most beautiful of 
the lamps were arranged at the furthest end of 
the room where the sultana sat on her throne. 

The throne was elevated on four steps. It was 
made of wrought gold, inlaid with amethysts. 
Four principal emirs of the kingdom held above 
the sultana’s head a canopy of red silk, while 
the sheik of Medina fanned her Majesty with a 
fan of costly plumes. Thus the sultana awaited 
the return of her lord with their dear son 
whom she had not seen since his infancy ; but in 
special dreams she had seen him so distinctly 


206 


THE CAB AVAN. 


that she would have recognized him among 
thousands. 

Now the noise of the approaching procession 
was heard; trumpets and drums mingled their 
strains with the triumphant shouts of the multi- 
tude ; the noise of the horses’ hoofs rang loud in 
the palace court. Nearer and nearer came the 
sound of footsteps. The door of the palace 
was flung open, and leading his supposed son 
by the hand, the sultan entered the apartment. 
Hastening along the great corridor he approached 
the sultana’s throne. 

“ Behold,” said he, “I bring you him for whom 
you so long have pined.” But the sultana inter- 
rupted him in the sentence, exclaiming vehe- 
mently, “This is not my son. These are not the 
features which the Prophet has shown me in 
my dreams.” 

Just as the sultan was about to reprove her 
for her superstition the door of the room was 
dashed open and Prince Omar rushed in, closely 
pursued by his guards. Concentrating all his 
strength he had, with one mighty effort, resisted 
the united force of his captors, and now threw 
himself exhausted at the foot of the throne. 

“ Here will I die ; let me be killed, cruel 
father, for I can bear this disgrace no longer ! ” 

All were surprised at this interruption ; the 
pursuing guards, hastening up, were about to 


THE CAB AVAN. 


207 


seize and again bind him fast when the sultana, 
who had heard and seen all in speechless amaze- 
ment, sprang from her throne exclaiming, “Hold! 
touch him not ; for this, and no other, is my son. 
This is he whom, though my eyes have not seen, 
my heart knows right well.” 

The guards had involuntarily stepped back 
from Omar at this command ; but the sultan, 
who had worked himself into a passion, ordered 
them to bind that madman. 

“ I must now interfere, 
he said . 

ke 


er^er^b 




“here we 
do not 
pay at- 
tention to 
women’s idle 
dreams, but to 
certain and unerring 
signs. I know this to 
be my son” (pointing 
Labakan), “for he f 
brought me the dagger, the token 
agreed upon with my friend Elfi Bey of Cairo.” 

“ He has stolen it ! ” cried Omar. “ He has 
treacherously used my thoughtless confidence.” 
But the sultan heeded not the voice of his true 
son; he was accustomed, in all things, only to 
follow hjs own inclinations. He therefore had 


208 


THE CAB AVAN. 


the unfortunate Omar confined in one of the 
palace cells. He then went with Labakan to 
his own apartment, very wroth with his wife, the 
sultana, although, until then, he had lived with 
her in harmony and love for five-and-twenty 
years. 

The sultana was much distressed at this sad 
ending of her joyful expectations. She was per- 
fectly certain that an impostor had usurped the 
sultan’s heart, for the very face and form of the 
Unfortunate Omar had in dreams often been 
shown to her as her son. 

When her grief and disappointment had some- 
what subsided, the sultana began to think of 
some means by which she could convince her 
husband of his error. This was certainly a 
hard thing to do. The youth who pretended to 
be their son had brought the appointed token, 
the dagger; he had also learned so much of 
Omar’s early life from what the prince himself 
had told him that he could play his part well 
without being discovered. 

From the men who had accompanied the sultan 
to the statue of El-Serujah she learned all the 
particulars of the meeting ; she then held council 
with her most trusty attendants. One means and 
another were proposed and opposed. At last a 
shrewd old Grecian woman named Melechsalah 
spoke : 


THE CARAVAN. 


209 


“If I have heard aright, noble lady, the bearer 
of the dagger called him whom you hold to be 
your son by the name of Labakan, a crazy 
tailor ? ” 

“Yes, that is so,” answered the sultana; “but 
what has that to do with the matter ? ” 

“ What if this impostor,” said the old woman, 
“ had bestowed upon your son his own name ? 
If that be truly so, then have I a capital plan to 
entrap the deceiver ; but this I must tell to you 
in private.” 

The sultana walked apart with the Grecian 
slave, and Melechsalah whisperingly proposed 
her plan. The sultana seemed so much pleased 
with the idea, that she made ready at once to 
repair to the sultan’s apartments. 

The sultana was a wise woman who knew how 
to proceed with her royal husband; she knew, 
moreover, how best to use her knowledge. She 
therefore appeared to the sultan to have yielded 
to his judgment, and to now be willing to own 
as her son the one whom he had chosen; she 
only requested her husband to grant her one 
favor. The sultan, who was very sorry that 
any difference should have come between his 
wife and himself readily promised to grant her 
request. 

“I should like well,” said she, “to try them 
both by a test of their skillfulness. Others, per- 


210 


THE CAB AVAN. 


haps, would have them race, fence or fight with 
lances and swords ; but those are feats which any- 
one can perform ; no, I will give them something 
to do which requires ingenuity. Each one shall 
make a cloak and a pair of trousers ; and then 
we shall see which makes the better.” 

The sultan laughed and protested, “ Ah ! now 
you have, indeed, thought of something very 
clever. What ? My son is to compete with your 
crazy tailor to see which can make the better 
cloak ? No, that cannot be.” But the sultana 
reminded him that he had promised to grant her 
request. The sultan was a man of his word and 
at last gave in ; at the same time swearing that 
if the mad tailor made his cloak ever so beautifully 
he would still never own him as his son. 

The sultan went himself to his son, to bid 
him humor the whim of his mother, who wished 
to see how well he could make a cloak. And 
now Labakan laughed in his heart for joy; for, 
he thought, “If it only rests on that, the sultana 
shall, indeed, soon gladly claim me as her son.” 

Two rooms were prepared; one for Prince 
Omar, the other for the tailor ; there they were 
to prove their skill. The sultan had a large 
piece of silk stuff, shears, needles and thread 
placed in each room. 

The sultan was very curious to know what 
kind of cloak his son would be able to make ; 


THE CAB AVAN. 


211 


the sultana was equally anxious as to the result 
of her plan. Two days was the time appointed 
in which the two rivals were to do their work. 

On the third day the sultan sent for his wife, 
and when she had joined him, he sent to the two 
rooms for the two cloaks and their respective 
makers. Triumphantly Labakan stepped in and 
displayed his cloak before the astonished eyes 
of the sultan. 

“ See, my father ; see, my noble mother,” said 
he, “ is not this a masterpiece of work ? I will 
lay a wager with the most skilled of tailors, that 
he cannot turn out a finer cloak than this.” 

The sultana laughed and turned to Omar. 

“ And what have you made, my son ? ” 

Sadly the prince threw the silk and the shears 
to the ground. 

“ I have been taught to ride a war steed, and to 
wield the sword ; my lance has hit its mark 
in fifty battles ; but the arts of the needle and 
thread are strangers to me, for they were un- 
worthy of the ward of Elfi Bey, the Bashaw of 
Cairo.” 

“ 0, Omar ! my true son ! ” exclaimed the sul- 
tana. “ Ah ! that I could embrace you, and claim 
you as my son. Pardon me, my lord and hus- 
band,” said she, turning to the sultan, “ for the 
little trick that I have played upon you. But 
do you not now see which is the prince and 


212 


THE CAB AVAN. 

* 




which the tailor ? Truly the cloak which your 
son has made is magnificent, and I should like well 
to know under what master he has 
learned.” 

The sultan sat in deep medi- 
tation contemplating, with mis- 
trust, first his wife and 
then Labakan. The im- 
postor was much dis- 
turbed. He tried in vain 
to conceal his blushes of 
confusion. He was angry 
with himself to think that 
he had been so stupid as to 
be caught in the sultana’s 
trap. 

“ This evidence is not suf- 
ficient,” said the sultan at 
last j “but Allah be praised, 
I know of a means whereby 
I can ascertain surely, whether 
or n0 ^ I have been deceived.” 

The sultan ordered his fastest 
horse to be brought, mounted in haste and 
rode toward a forest which was not far from 
the city. 

In this forest there lived a good fairy named 
Adolzaide. According to tradition she had often 
given good advice, in the hour of necessity, 



THE C All AVAN. 


213 


to Sultan Saaud’s ancestors. It was to her that 
the sultan now hastened. 

In the middle of the forest there was an open 
place surrounded by tall cedars. In this place, 
according to tradition, the fairy lived. Seldom 
did any mortal pass this place ; for generations 
a certain terror of it had descended from father 
to son. 

When the sultan had arrived at this opening 
in the forest he dismounted, fastened his horse 
to a tree, placed himself in the center of the 
circle, and said in a loud voice, “ If it be true, 0 
Adolzaide, that you have given to my ancestors 
good advice in the hour of necessity, then do 
not disregard the petition of their descendant. 
Advise me now in a matter in which man’s wis- 
dom falls short.” 

He had scarcely uttered the last word when 
one of the cedars opened, and a veiled form, in 
long white garments, stepped forth. 

“I know why you have come to me, Sultan 
Saaud. Your wish is blameless ; therefore I 
will give you my help. Take these two wal- 
nuts ; they will open without breaking. Let 
each of the two who claim to be your son choose 
one. I know that each will choose the one 
meant for him.” 

Thus spoke the fairy, and gave to her petitioner 
two nuts from off the fairy tree. The nuts were 


214 


THE CAB AVAN. 


of gold, set with pearls. Upon the top of 
each one appeared an inscription set with 
diamonds. 

During his homeward ride the sultan puzzled 
his brain to think what could be inside of the 
nuts, neither one of which could he with all his 
strength force open. The inscriptions also gave 
him no light. On one was written, “ Truth and 
Honor”; on the other, “Good Luck and Eiches.” 
The sultan studied these inscriptions and thought 
that it would be hard even for him to choose ; 
each in its way was best. 

When he had again reached his palace, he 
sent for the sultana and told her all that the 
fairy had said. She was at once seized with an 
ardent hope and a strong conviction that the one 
whom she loved would choose the nut which 
would show his noble birth. 

Two tables were placed before the sultan’s 
throne ; the sultan, with his own hand, laid a 
nut on each of the tables. He then ascended 
his throne, and ordered the slaves to throw open 
the doors of the saloon. 

A glittering throng composed of all the bashaws 
and emirs in the kingdom poured through the 
open doors. They saluted their master and seated 
themselves on costly cushions, which had been 
placed in rows for their accommodation. 

When they had all taken their places, the 


THE GAB AVAN. 


215 


sultan signed to one of his slaves, and Labakan 
was ushered in. 

With a proud step the false prince marched 
through the saloon, bowed low before the throne, 
and said, “ What does my princely father wish?” 

The sultan arose from his throne, and answered, 
“ My son, there is still some doubt as to the 
right of your claims. One of those nuts con- 
tains the proof of your noble birth. Choose 
which one you will take ; I doubt not it will 
be the right one.” 

Labakan stepped up to the tables and consid- 
ered for a long time which one he should select. 
At last, however, he said, “Most honored father, 
what could give greater happiness than the ‘ Good 
Luck ’ to be your son ? What more enviable 
than the 1 Riches 9 of your favor ? I choose the 
nut which has inscribed upon its shell 1 Good 
Luck and Riches.’ ” 

“ We shall see later whether you have chosen 
the right one,” said the sultan; “meanwhile, 
seat yourself upon the cushion by the Bashaw 
of Medina.” Then at a sign to the 7-7^^ 
slave, Omar was at once brought 
in. His glance was sullen, his 
countenance was sad, and his 
whole manner excited the general sympathy of 
those present. He knelt before the throne, and 
awaited the sultan’s command. 



216 


THE CARAVAN \ 


The sultan explained to Omar that he was to 
choose one of the nuts. He arose from his knees, 
and stepped up to the tables ; he read, attentively, 
the inscriptions, and then said, “ The last few 
days have taught me how uncertain is ‘Luck/ 
and how perishable are ‘ Riches ; ’ for they do 
take to themselves wings, and fly away. But 
these days of trouble have also taught me that 
an imperishable blessing, namely, 1 Truth/ dwells 
in the heart of the brave ; and that the shining 
star of ‘ Honor ’ fades not like ‘ Riches/ And 
though I should lose a crown by the choice, 
‘ Truth and Honor ’ shall be mine forever/’ 

He placed his hand upon the nut which he 
had chosen; but the sultan ordered him to wait 
a while before opening it. He then signed to 
Labakan to come up to his table, and Labakan 
stepping up, laid his hand also on the nut he 
had chosen. 

A basin of water drawn from the sacred well 
Zem Zem, in Mecca, was then brought in. In 
this the sultan washed his hands, turned his face 
toward the east, threw himself upon his knees 
and prayed : “ 0, Allah, our protector, thou who 
for hundreds of years hast preserved our line 
pure and free from all shan^e, allow not a worth- 
less impostor to sully the name of Abassid. Oh ! 
I pray thee, be near my true son, with thy 
mighty aid, in this hour of trial.” 


THE GAB AVAN. 


217 


The sultan arose and ascended his throne again. 
The most intense interest fell upon all the as- 
sembly. Then said the sultan, “ Open the wal- 
nuts.” And with that both nuts, which before 
had resisted all his force, now flew open. 

In the nut that Omar had chosen, there lay on 
a tiny silk cushion, a wee golden crown and 
scepter ; m Labakan’s nut was a large needle 
and a twist of thread. 

The sultan ordered them both to bring their 
open nuts before him. He took the tiny crown 
from out the nut ; and, oh ! what a wonder now 
was seen. As the sultan laid the crown in the 
palm of his hand, it became larger and larger 
until it had reached the size of his own crown. 

He placed the magic crown upon the head of 
his true son Omar, who knelt before him. 

He kissed him on the brow a,nd bade him 
sit at his right hand. Then turning to 
Labakan, he said, “ It is an old saying, 

4 The shoemaker stays by his last/ 

And in this instance we see it veri- 
fied, for it seems that you also, 
shall stick by your needle. 

You have not, indeed, de- 
served my mercy ; but clem- 
ency has been prayed for 
this day, on behalf of the 
one who should be found 



218 


THE CAB AVAN. 


guilty of this deceit ; therefore I give you your 
worthless life. But beware that you never come 
again into my kingdom/’ 

Ashamed and utterly undone as he was, the 
poor tailor apprentice was unable to reply ; he 
threw himself on his knees before the prince, 
and the tears forced themselves in his eyes, as 
he said, “ Can you forgive me, 0, Prince ? ” 
“True to his friend, generous to his enemy, 
the descendant of Abassid must ever be,” an- • 
swered the prince, signing to Labakan to arise. 
“ Go in peace.” 

“ 0, thou noble son ! ” exclaimed the old sultan 
with joy, as he embraced his son Omar. 

Then all the emirs, bashaws, and the whole 
assembly rose from their seats and shouted, 
“ Long live the sultan’s son, Omar the true ! ” 

In the midst of the general jubilee Labakan 
slunk out of the palace. The nut was still in his 
hand. He went to the stables, saddled his horse 
Murva, and rode out of the gate toward Alexan- 
dria. His short court-life was over now, and 
seemed but as a dream ; only the fine gold nut 
richly set with pearls and diamonds proved to 
him that he had not been dreaming. 

When at last he had again reached Alexandria, 
he rode up to the house of his old master, dis- 
mounted, fastened his horse to the door post and 
entered the workshop. 


THE CAB AVAN. 


219 


The master who did not immediately recognize 
him, made him a low bow, and asked how he 
could serve him. But looking more closely at 
his guest he recognized his old apprentice, Laba- 
kan. At once he called loudly to his assistants 
and apprentices, “ Here is Labakan ! ” They 
all with one accord rushed upon their old com- 
rade, who had not expected such a reception. 
In a rage they beat him with their flat-irons 
and yard-sticks ; they pricked him with their 
needles, they nipped him with their shears, until 
exhausted poor Labakan fell down on a heap of 
old clothes. 

As he lay there panting for breath, his master 
began to reproach him for the stolen robe. In 
vain Labakan assured him that he had only 
come there that he might restore everything he 
had taken. In vain he offered the valuable gold 
nut as a compensation for what he had stolen. 
The master and apprentices fell upon him again, 
beat him cruelly and thrust him out of the door. 

Bruised and cut he mounted his horse Murva, 
and rode to the nearest inn. There he laid his 
bruised and weary head upon a pillow and thought 
over the hardships of this world, the fickleness 
of luck, and the uncertainty of riches. He fell 
asleep, with the firm determination to renounce 
all claim to greatness, and settle down as an 
honest and hard-working man. 


220 


THE CAB AVAN. 


The next day he was still unshaken in his 
resolution; the severe treatment of his master 
and the apprentices seemed to have pommeled 
all nobility out of him. 

At a very high price he sold 
the gold nut to a jeweler; with 
the money he bought a house 
| and fitted up one of the rooms 
as a workshop. When he had 
put everything in order, and 
hung out over the door his sign, 
“ Labakan — Tailor,” he sat 
down and began with the needle 
and thread which he had found 
in his nut to mend his clothes which 
slit and torn by his master’s 

cruel treatment. 

A customer called him away from his work for 
a few minutes. When he would have com- 
menced his work again what wondrous sight 
met his eyes ! The needle began sewing of itself, 
without being guided by any one. It made such 
fine, even stitches as Labakan could not have 
made in his most careful work. 

This magic gift of the fairy was, indeed, a 
useful one to Labakan, and of the greatest value. 
But so too was the little piece of thread a good 
gift, for it never gave out, no matter how fast 
the needle flew. 



THE GAB AVAN. 


221 


Labakan’s splendid work brought him many 
customers. He soon became the most celebrated 
tailor, far and wide. He cut the clothes and with 
the magic needle started the stitching in them. 
But after that the needle worked rapidly on with- 
out guidance until the garment was completed. 

Master Labakan had soon the custom of the 
whole city. His work was beautifully fine and 
extraordinarily cheap ; but the one thing which 
puzzled his customers was that he worked with- 
out assistants, and always with his workroom 
door fastened. 

Thus was fulfilled the inscription on the nut 
that he had chosen : “ Good Luck and Riches.” 
Recognizing his proper sphere of duty he had ac- 
cepted it without grumbling and now in the full- 
est measure, “Good Luck and Riches” were 
strewn in the path of the good tailor. And 
when he heard from the mouths of all of the 
honor and renown of the young prince Omar — 
how he was a pattern to the brave, beloved by 
all his people, and a terror to his enemies — then 
he compared the brilliant course of this young 
prince with his own, and said within himself, 
“It is better for me to have remained a tailor; 
for to display such ‘ Truth and Honor ? as does 
Omar, and to win such esteem and renown as 
does he, require other talents than those which I 
possess.” 


222 


THE CAB AVAN. 


So Labakan lived contentedly in his sphere, 
esteemed by all his fellow citizens. And if the 
needle has not lost its power, he is still sewing 
with the never-ending thread of the good fairy 
Adolzaide. 

At sundown the caravan recommenced its 
journey. They soon reached Birket el Had, or 
The Pilgrim’s Well, a point only three hours’ 
journey from Cairo. 

The caravan was already expected, and the 
merchants soon had the pleasure of seeing their 
friends coming out from Cairo to meet them. 
They entered the town through the gate Beb-el 
Falch. It was considered a lucky omen for any 
one coming from Mecca to enter Cairo through 
this gate, for the reason that the Prophet had 
himself passed through it when entering that 
city. 

When they had reached the market place, the 
three Turkish merchants parted from the stranger, 
Selim Baruch, and the Greek merchant, Zaleukos, 
and went home with their friends. Zaleukos then 
escorted Selim to a caravansary and invited him 
to dine with him. Selim accepted the invitation 
and promised to return as soon as he had changed 
his garments. 

Zaleukos had made all necessary preparations 
for entertaining his guest handsomely. He had 


THE CAB AVAN. 


223 


really learned to love this stranger during their 
journey together. When the table had been set 
in the best order, and with a most tempting 
display of food and wines, Zaleukos 
took his seat and awaited the return 
of his guest. 

After a short space he heard 
heavy footsteps coming through 
the passage, and directed toward 
his apartment. 

On hearing the steps the Greek 
arose in order that he might 
meet his friend with all cordi- 
ality, and welcome him to the din- 
ner. But he started back terrified; 
for as the door opened, lo ! that awful i 
man of the red mantle — the unknown^ 

— stood before him. 

Zaleukos gave another glance at him. 
was no mistake ; here was the same tall, com- 
manding figure ; the mask, from beneath which 
flashed out the black eyes ; the red mantle embroi- 
dered with gold — all were too well remembered 
by him and too closely connected with the most 
awful hour of his life. 

Conflicting emotions struggled in Zaleukos’ 
breast. As an unpleasant remembrance he had 
long since been reconciled to the fearful picture, 
and had forgiven him who was the author of all 



There 


224 


THE CAB AVAN. 


his misfortunes ; and yet this sight tore open 
afresh all the old wounds; it recalled all the old 
anguish, all those hours of torture — the terror of 
death, the utter despair which had come over him 
when his blood had been spilt on that foreign soil. 
The recollection of all these horrors passed 
through his mind in a moment. 

“ What want you here, O awful man ? 99 ex- 
claimed the Greek, as the apparition stood motion- 
less on the threshold. “ Depart, I implore you ; 
go hence at once, lest I be tempted to curse 
you.” 

“ Zaleukos ! 99 said a voice now grown familiar 
even beneath the mask, “ do you thus receive your 
invited guest ? ” The speaker pulled off his mask ; 
he threw back the mantle ; he was Selim Baruch, 
the stranger of the caravan. 

But Zaleukos could not at once feel at ease. 
He felt himself really afraid of his friend, for 
in him he had seen, only too plainly, the mysteri- 
ous man of the Ponte Yecchio. His customary 
hospitality to guests prevailed, however, and he 
motioned silently to the stranger to sit down 
with him to the meal. 

“ I can well guess your thoughts,” said Selim, 
at last breaking the silence. “Your eyes seem 
to question me. I would not have revealed 
myself, and your eyes should never have seen 
my face again ; but it is only due to you that I 


THE CARAVAN. 


225 


should give you some explanation of my seeming 
cruelty. I therefore ventured to thus appear 
before you. Lest you should curse me, however, 
I have now removed my disguise. You said to 
me once during our journey, ‘The faith of my 
fathers bids me love him ; for we are Christians. 
Moreover, he is more unhappy than I.’ Most 
truly you judge aright, my friend; believe me, 
and hear me patiently while I make my own 
excuse.” 


226 


THE CAE AVAN. 


THE STRANGER’S STORY. 

HAT you may perfectly understand me 
I must be somewhat lengthy. I was born 
in Alexandria, of Christian parents. My 
father, the youngest son of an old and 
distinguished Frankish house, was the 
consul for his country in Alexandria. 

When ten years of age, I was taken to France 
by my mother’s brother. There I remained until 
some time after the breaking out of the wars in 
France. I then returned to Alexandria with my 
uncle, to seek shelter with my parents ; for my 
uncle’s life was no longer safe in his own land. 

Fully expecting to find again at my father’s 
house the peace and safety of which the French 
troubles had deprived us, we landed after a pleas- 
ant voyage. But, alas ! the peace we hoped to find 
was not in my father’s house. The raging storms 
of those warlike days had not, indeed, reached 
Alexandria ; the more unexpected, therefore, had 
been the misfortune and overthrow of our house 
and the afflictions that had fallen upon my family. 

My brother, who was a gay young man and my 
father’s first secretary, was engaged to be married 


THE CAB A VAN. 


227 


shortly to a young girl, the daughter of an Italian 
nobleman who resided in our neighborhood. 

A few days before our arrival the young girl 
suddenly disappeared. Neither our family nor 
yet her father could find the slightest clue to 
her whereabouts. They at last concluded that 
when taking a walk she must have ventured 
too far alone, and fallen into the hands of pirates. 
Even this idea was almost better to my poor 
brother than the truth, which we all learned only 
too soon. The faithless girl had eloped with a 
young Neapolitan who had been a guest in her 
father’s house. 

My brother, agitated to the utmost at this 
breach of faith, made every effort to bring back 
the runaways ; but all in vain. His search in 
Naples and Florence, though it caused much 
excitement in both cities, only served to accom- 
plish the destruction of our family. 

After a short search in his native city, the 
Florentine nobleman returned to Alexandria 
under the pretense of seeing justice done to my 
brother. He came, in fact, however, to ruin our 
whole family, and thus to revenge himself upon 
my brother for having made the elopement of 
his daughter so public. 

At once he stopped all inquiries and search 
which my brother had started. And he knew 
so well how to wield his power and influence, 


228 


THE CAE A VAN. 


which he always used solely for his own advant- 
age, that he caused the official doings of my 
father and brother to be mistrusted by their 
Government. 

Through treachery and fraud they were arrested, 
conveyed to France, and there, without trial, exe- 
cuted at the block. 

This awful blow deprived my mother of her 
reason. In ' less than ten months death re- 
leased her from this terrible condition. But 
during the last few days of her life, her reason 
returned to her in its full power. After her 
death I was alone in the world. 

In the days that followed my mother’s death 
only one thought occupied my mind. One desire 
only permitted me to forget for a moment my grief 
and desolation. 

It was that mighty flame of vengeance which 
with her latest breath my dying mother had 
kindled within my soul. 

When in her last hours my mother’s reason 
returned, she summoned me to her bedside, and 
spoke with calmness of our sad fate and her 
approaching end. She then sent all others from 
the room, raised herself by a great effort on her 
poor couch, and said that I could only receive 
her parting blessing if I swore to fulfill her last 
wish. 

Awed by her words I promised with an oath 


THE CAB AVAN. 


229 


to perform whatever request she should make 
of me. 

At once she broke out into vehement curses 
against the Florentine nobleman and his daughter. 
In the most solemn words she urged me to 
avenge on that Florentine the overthrow of our 
house arid name. 

The thought of vengeance had long been slum- 
bering in my breast. After my mother’s death 
it awoke afresh. I collected all that remained 
of my father’s possessions, and swore to satisfy 
my revenge or die in the attempt. 

I was soon in Florence. Here I kept myself 
as secret as possible. My first plan was quite 
defeated by the position which my enemy held in 
his own city. I found that the old nobleman 
had been made chief ruler of the city, and had 
thus all power in his own hands. He could 
arrest me at once if he had the slightest sus- 
picion of my designs. . A most unexpected occur- 
rence helped me in my difficulty. 

One evening when walking through the streets, 
I met a man dressed in a well-known livery. By 
his unsteady walk, his sullen glance, and half- 
muttered exclamation — “ Santo Sacramento,” 
and “ Maledetto diavolo ” — I soon recognized 
old Pietro, a servant of the Florentine, whom I 
had known in Alexandria. From his manner, I 
had little doubt that he had fallen out with his 


230 


THE CARAVAN '. 


master. I therefore determined to turn his bad 
humor to my advantage. 

He seemed much surprised to see me there, 
and complained to me that his master, since he 
had become chief ruler, had not dealt fairly with 
his old servants. My gold joined to his 
anger soon won him to my side. The 
Id greatest difficulty was now over- 

pietro. come> i ] ia( j i n m y employment 
a man who could at any hour open 
my enemy’s door to me in secret ; and thus my 
plan of vengeance ran quickly on. 

The life of the old Florentine seemed to me 
too small a revenge for the ruin of our whole 
family. Ho ; he must lose that which he loved 
above all the world. This was Bianca, his 
daughter. Her first husband had died soon 
after their marriage, and she was now prepar- 
ing for a second union. 1 was determined she 
must die. I shrank from the deed, however, 
and I did not consider Pietro clever enough to 
execute it with success. We therefore looked 
about for a man who might do the deed well. 

1 dared not impart to any one my plan, or the 
name of the Florentine ; for none would have 
undertaken to commit so great a crime against 
the chief ruler of the city or his family. 

At last Pietro hit upon the plan, which T 
afterwards carried out. He suggested that you 


THE CAB AVAN. 


231 


as a stranger, and moreover a surgeon, would be 
the fittest person to execute our scheme. How 
we carried it out you already know. But my 
undertaking seemed to be thwarted, first by your 
careful precautions, and even after the recovery 
of my mantle, by your great fear of doing any- 
thing wrong. 

Pietro opened for us the postern door of the 
governor’s palace. He would have conducted 
you back with equal precaution, but at the awful 
sight which, through a chink in the door, pre- 
sented itself to our eyes, we both fled away 
in terror. Utterly overcome with horror and 
remorse I rushed on, I knew not whither, but 
when I had gone about two hundred yards, I 
sank down on the street porch in a swoon. When 
I again came to my senses my first thought was 
of you and the awful fate that must await you if 
you should be caught in the governor’s house. 

I hastened back to the palace, but I could 
discover no trace of you or Pietro. The postern 
door, however, was open, and so I had some 
hope that you had availed yourself of this means 
of escape. 

As the day began to dawn, I feared greatly 
that I might be discovered. With this fear 
came an indescribable emotion of remorse, and 
an irresistible longing to be again outside the 
walls of Florence, never to return. I hastened 


232 


THE CARAVAN. 


to Rome; but judge of my agony when one day 
I overheard a man telling this awful story to 
his companions, and caught his closing words : 
“They have caught the murderer; he was a 
Greek physician.” 

Overburdened with anxiety I returned at once 
to Florence. Already my revenge had seemed to 
me too great, but now I cursed it; I cursed 
myself. Revenge, indeed, was purchased at too 
high a price, for it had cost me your life. 

I reached Florence on the very day that deprived 
you of your hand. It is needless for me to say 
what I felt when I saw you lay your hand upon 
the cruel block, and suffer so heroically. But 
from the moment the first drop of blood fell 
upon the soil, I was determined to support and 
protect you all the rest of your life. What has 
happened since you know ; and it only remains 
for me to tell you why I have taken this journey 
with you. 

As a burden heavy, and hard to bear, the 
thought pressed upon me that you had never 
forgiven me. I therefore determined to spend 
some days with you in disguise, and at last to 
lay before you my small excuse for the terrible 
misfortune into which 1 had brought you. 

The Greek had heard his guest in silence. 
When the narrative was concluded he made an- 


THE CAB AVAN. 


233 


swer in a calm, quiet voice, as follows : “ I know 
well that yon must be more unhappy than I, for 
that awful deed hangs as a dark cloud before 
you, ever obscuring the sunlight from your day. 
From my heart I forgive you. But allow me to 
ask one question. How came you in that dis- 
guise in the desert ? After } r ou had bought for 
me the house in Constantinople, what next did 
you do ? ” 

“ I went back to Alexandria,” answered the 
Frank. “ Hatred against all men raged in my 
breast — burning hatred; especially against that 
country which is called ‘ Italy the Picturesque.’ 
Believe me, I was less miserable among the 
Mohammedans than in that land of Italy. 
Scarcely had I been a month in Egypt when 
there came to that land certain of my country- 
men who had fled from the troubles in France. 

“ In them I saw only the murderers of my father 
and brother. I therefore collected certain young 
men of my acquaintance of like mind with my- 
self, and we determined to become a terror to 
the French nobility, even as formerly the Mama- 
lukes had been to the Egyptians. When our 
campaign was over I could not bring myself to 
return to a life of peace. With a small number 
of chosen allies I lived a wandering and fugitive 
life, devoted to battle and the chase. And to-day 
I live among these people who honor me as their 


234 


THE CAE AVAN. 


prince. In this life I am quite content ; for if 
our Asiatic woods and plains are not so pict- 
uresque as are your European lands, yet they 
are far more free from the envy and calumny, 
the self-love and covetous ambition that abound 
in those fairer lands.” 

Zaleukos thanked the Frank for his explanation. 
He did not, however, conceal from his friend the 
opinion that he would find life more comfortable 
and more befitting his high birth if he would but 
live and work in some Christian land. Then 
warmly shaking his guest’s hand, he begged him 
to remain with him for the rest of his life. 

The Frank seemed much gratified at this warm 
invitation. “Now I know,” said he, “that you 
have quite forgiven me, and are, indeed, my 
friend. Keceive my most heartfelt gratitude for 
your generous pardon.” He arose as he spoke 
and standing before the Greek drew himself up 
to his full height. Zaleukos almost trembled at 
the war-like and almost gigantic form, the dark 
and fiery eyes, the deep, mysterious voice of his 
guest. 

“ Your proposal is most kind,” continued the 
Frank, “and might be accepted with great joy 
by any other man. But for me it cannot be. 
Already my horse stands bridled at the door ; 
already my servants await me without. Zaleukos, 
farewell ! ” 


THE CAB AVAN. 


235 


The friends whom Fate had so strangely 
brought together embraced each other affection- 
ately. “And'what shall I call you ? What is 
the name of my guest, who will ever live in my 
memory ? ” asked the Greek. 

The Frank looked at him in silence for a 
while, and then said as he pressed his hand once 
again, “I am called the lord of the desert. I am 
the Robber Orbasan.” 

























) 




















* 




















. 




























































































































































THE BOY AND THE TREASURES 

AM 1 -/ 


OF THE OLD WITCH. 










There was once a poor widow who had three 
sons. The two elder ones went out to work to 
help support the family, but as they seldom did 
what their mother wished, or heeded what she 
said, they were no comfort at home. But the 
youngest boy always staid by the old widow, 
to cheer her in her loneliness. He was therefore 
dearly loved by his widowed mother, but hated 
and envied by his brothers. 

At last the old widow died; and the three 
brothers started out to seek their fortunes in 
the world. 

After wandering about all day in quest of 
employment they came, toward evening, to the 
seashore. Far out upon the sea there lay an 
island, upon which could be seen a bright light 
as if from a fire. The brothers stood and gazed 
at the light in wonder. They concluded at last 
that the island must be inhabited. 

Now as it was already dark and they knew 
not where to find shelter for the night, they 
decided after some consideration to take a boat 


239 


240 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


which they found on the shore, and row over 
to the island to seek a night’s lodging. They 
entered the boat and rowed swiftly toward the 
light. 

When they had reached the island they searched 
about for a habitation and finally spied a small 
hut, half hidden by the tall reeds and bushes 
that grew along the shore. 

Approaching the hut the brothers saw that 
the bright light proceeded from a golden lantern 
set in the door of the hut. In the yard without 
stood a ram with golden horns. On these were 
fastened little bells, which gave out a clear ring- 
ing sound whenever the ram moved. 

The brothers were astonished at both these 
sights, but much more at the old woman who 
with her daughter lived in the little hut. 

She was old and very ugly. She was dressed 
in a magnificent velvet cloak, which was so 
wonderfully embroidered with gold thread that 
in every fold it glittered as if the entire cloak 
were pure gold. Her singular appearance con- 
vinced the brothers that she was no ordinary 
mortal; but was of a line of witches or some 
other strange beings. 

After some hesitation they entered the hut. 
The old woman was standing on the hearth, 
stirring with a great spoon something in a huge 
pot which hung over the fire. Approaching 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


241 


her respectfully the wanderers begged a night’s 
shelter in the hut. This the old woman stoutly 
refused ; but she told them to go to a king’s court 
just across the water. 

As she spoke she looked steadily at the youngest 
boy. His eyes were wandering all around the 
strange hut, and even in that short 
space of time had taken in every- 
thing worthy of note. 

The old woman said, “What is 
your name, my boy ? ” He an- 
swered promptly, “ I am called 
Jack.” The old woman said, 

“ Your brothers may go their 
way, but you can remain here 
with me. You look too smart 
for me, and I shall expect 
good to come of it if you are employed at the 
king’s court.” 

But the boy begged with all his might to be 
allowed to go with his brothers. He promised 
the old woman never to play any trick on her 
nor do her any harm. At last he received per- 
mission to go on his way. Thereupon the three 
brothers hastened to their boat, and rowed out 
into the sea, rejoicing exceedingly that they had 
all escaped in safety. 

Towards morning they came to the palace of a 
great- king, where they asked for employment. 



242 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


The two elder brothers were hired as servants in 
the palace, and the youngest boy was employed 
as a page to wait upon the young prince. 

Jack was so bright and quick that he soon 
won the favor of all about him, and daily rose 
in the good opinion of the king. The elder 
brothers were envious of this. They could not 
bear to think of their younger brother being 
raised above them. They therefore consulted 
together how they might bring about his down- 
fall. 

One day when the two elder brothers were in 
the king’s presence they described to him the 
beautiful golden lantern, whose light shone over 
land and sea. It would, they declared, well suit 
so great a king to possess this wonderful 
treasure. 

When the king heard this he asked, “ Where 
is the lantern to be found, and who can get it 
for me ? ” The brothers answered, “ That can 
no one do so well as our younger brother, Jack ; 
he knows best where it is to be found.” Now 
the king became very anxious to possess the lan- 
tern, and sent for the boy. 

When J ack came, the king said to him, “ If 
you can bring me the beautiful golden lantern, 
whose light shines over the sea and land, I will 
make you the head man in my whole court.” 
Jack was not slow to accept this mission and 


THE WITCH'S T R EA S TJRES. 


243 





promised to do his best. This pleased the king 
exceedingly. 

But the envious brothers greatly rejoiced over 
their plan. They thought that such an en- 
terprise surely could not be attended with suc- 
cess. 

Jack furnished himself with a small boat, and 
rowed quietly across the water to the island 
where the old witch lived. When, 
he reached the island it was 
already dark. As was her 
custom at that hour, the old 
woman was preparing her 
evening meal at the fire. 

The boy climbed quietly to 
the roof of the hut, and threw a handful of bitter 
salt down the chimney so skillfully that it fell 
into the soup which the old woman was cooking. 

When the soup was cooked the old woman 
took it from the fire and would have eaten it ; 
but she could not, it was so salt and bitter. 

At once the old woman became very angry, 
and scolded her daughter, who, so she thought, 
had put too much salt in the soup. But when she 
had weakened the soup to. make it less salt, she 
still could not eat it, because it was so bitter. 
She thereupon ordered her daughter to go to 
the well, which was at the end of the back gar- 
den, and fetch some fresh water, to make an- 


:jV° !k 




244 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


other soup. The girl answered, “How can I 
go to the well ? It is so dark that I shall not 
be able to find my way through the garden.” 
“ Well, then,” returned the mother pettishly, 
“take my golden lantern with you.” The girl 
took the lantern and ran quickly down the gar- 
den to fetch the water. But as she leaned over 
the well to draw up the bucket of water, Jack, 
who had slipped nimbly up behind her, pushed 
her, head foremost, into the water. He then 
seized the golden lantern and sprang to his boat 
as quickly as possible. 

As time passed the old woman began to won- 
der why her daughter loitered so long. She 
stepped to the door, and, at once, saw her lan- 
tern shining far out upon the water. Thereupon 
she fell into a great rage. She ran to the shore, 
and cried out “ Is that you, Jack ? ” The boy 
replied, “Yes, good mother, it is I.” The old 
woman said, “Have you stolen my gold lan- 
tern?” Jack answered, “Yes, good mother, I 
have.” The old witch called out, “ Are you not 
a great rogue?” The boy replied, “Yes, good 
mother, I am, indeed.” Then the old woman 
began to weep and lament, and cried out, “ Ah ! 
how stupid was I ever to let you leave the island. 
Well I knew that you would play some trick upon 
me. But if you ever return, you shall not escape 
me again.” And her voice was lost in the distance. 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


245 



Jack rowed back to the king’s palace. The 
king was delighted to receive the gold lantern, 
and, as he had promised, Jack was made the 
chief man in the whole court. But when 
the two brothers saw that their evil 
plan had only bettered their brother’s 
condition, they were even more envi- 
ous than before. They consulted to- 
gether how they might bring about his 
downfall, and win for themselves the high place 
in the king’s esteem. 

One day, when they were in the king’s pres- 
ence, the two brothers described to him the ram 
whose horns were of pure gold, and the little 
bells that were fastened to the horns, which rang 
out clearly whenever the animal moved. They 
said it would well become so rich a king to own 
such a valuable beast. 

When the king heard this speech he asked 
where this animal was to be found, and who 
could get it for him. The brothers answered, 
“ No one can do that, unless it were our brother 
Jack. He knows best where the ram is kept.” 

The king now desired greatly to possess the 
ram with the golden horns, so he sent for J ack. 

When the boy came the king said to him, 
“ Your brothers have told me of a ram whose 
horns are of pure gold whereon are fastened little 
bells which ring out clearly whenever the animal 


246 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


moves. Now, I wish you to set forth at once and 
do your best to bring the ram back with you. If 
you succeed you shall not go unrewarded f of your 
trouble ; for I will make you ruler over one third 
of my kingdom.” Jack was quite ready for this 
enterprise, and promised to start at once. This 
pleased the king greatly. The envious brothers, 
however, rejoiced in their hearts ; for 
they thought that J ack would never again 
be able to escape alive from the island. 
Jack made himself ready at 
once and rowed over 
the water to the 
island where the 
old witch lived. It 
was quite dark by the 
time he had reached 
the island, so that no 
one perceived 
[he ‘3 de — j him; for the 

? the L<Tnterr\ e | lantern was 
— > no longer there, 
but lighted up the king’s palace with its great 
brilliancy. 

While in the boat the youth turned over in his 
mind how he should get possession of the ram. 
This was not easily arranged, for the ram slept 
every night in the same room with the old witch. 
His quick mind, however, soon hit upon a plan 




THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


247 


which, although it was difficult and uncertain, 
was yet, under the circumstances, the best that 
could be done. 

At night, when the old woman and her 
daughter were going to bed, the girl went to the 
door to fasten it as was her custom each night. 
But Jack had, unperceived, fastened a piece of 
wood behind the door so that it could not shut. 
The girl stood at the door for some time and 
vainly tried to close it. When the old woman 
saw that her daughter could not succeed she 
thought there must be something wrong about 
one of the hinges ; so she called out that the 
door might be left unfastened for one night, and 
in the daylight they could see what was wrong 
with it. Thereupon the girl left the door un- 
fastened, and lying down upon her bed was soon 
fast asleep. 

Late in the night, when both mother and 
daughter were deep in sleep, Jack stole into their 
room and crept noiselessly up to the ram which 




lay stretched out before the fire. Th( 
youth had provided himself with 
some cotton wool which he now 



stuffed into all the little bells, so 0 

that when the animal moved they could not 
sound. He then seized the ram by the horns 
and dragged it to his boat. 

When he had rowed out a few yards from the 


248 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


shore he took out all the wool. The ram gave 
his head a toss and the bells rang out with a 
loud peal. The noise awoke the old woman from 
her sleep. Recognizing the sound of the bells, 
she ran hastily down to the sea-coast and cried 
out in a rage, “ Is that you, Jack?” He an- 
swered, “Yes, it is I, good mother.” 

The old woman asked, “ Have you stolen my 
golden ram ? ” The youth replied, “ Yes, good 
mother, that I have indeed.” The old woman re- 
torted, “ Oh ! are you not a 
miserable scamp?” Jack 
returned politely, “Yes, 


i^vgkber 
vKom 1 

I f ^ 

loved 30^ 

cle^ldy- 



truly, good mother, I 
think so.” Then the 
old woman began to 
weep and wail, and 
m/ cried out piteously in 
^ the midst of her lamenta- 
tions, “ Ah ! how stupid I 
was when I let you go. I might well have known 
that you would do me some harm if I did not 
keep you. But if you ever come here again, 
you shall not get away so easily.” 

Jack now rowed quickly back to the king’s 
court. And when he had delivered the ram he 
was made ruler over one third of the whole 
kingdom as the king had promised. But when 
the brothers saw how successful Jack had been 


THE WITCIE S TREASURES. 


249 


in his difficult enterprise, they envied and hated 
him yet more. They thought of nothing day 
and night but how they might put an end to their 
brother’s good luck. 

One day when the two elder brothers were 
waiting on the king, they described in the most 
glowing terms the wonderful cloak that belonged 
to the old witch. They said, it would better be- 
come a queen than an old witch, to possess such 
a priceless mantle, and that this alone remained 
to complete the king’s happiness. 

When the king heard all this he became 
thoughtful, and asked anxiously, “Where is 
this wonderful cloak to be found and who can 
procure it for me ? ” The brothers answered, 
“ No one could succeed in such a difficult task 
but our young brother Jack.” At once the king 
became very desirous to possess the cloak, and he 
soon sent for Jack. 

When the boy came the king said to him, “ I 
have noticed for some time that all your thoughts 
are centered on my young daughter. Now your 
brothers have told me of a velvet cloak so finely 
embroidered with gold thread that the entire 
garment glitters as does the purest gold. Go, 
try your luck ; if you can bring me this wonder- 
ful cloak I will receive you as my son-in-law, and 
you shall be heir to my throne.” 

Who so happy now as Jack ? He promised 


250 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


to win the king’s daughter or die in the 
attempt. 

The king praised him for his bravery and de- 
termination j but the two wicked brothers 
secretly rejoiced and thought that this undertak- 
ing surely would bring about the death of their 
brother. 

Jack jumped into his boat and rowed over 
toward the island where the old witch lived. On 
the way he thought and thought how he could 
get possession of the glittering cloak. But this 
seemed to him very difficult, for the old witch 
always wore the cloak around her, even at night. 
At last, after he had thought a long time a plan 
came into his head which might succeed although 
it was dangerous and uncertain. 

Jack took a large rubber bag which he had 
brought with him and tied it securely around his 
body under his jacket ; then with trembling 
steps he entered the old witch’s room. 

When the old woman saw him she was amazed 
and said, “ Is that you, Jack ? ” The youth an- 
swered, “ Yes, it is I, good mother.” When the 
old woman saw that it really was Jack she was 
rejoiced and said, “ Now that you have come into 
my room you need not think that you will ever 
escape from here, after having played me so 
many mean tricks.” Thereupon she seized a 
great knife and prepared to slay the youth. 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 


251 


the GreaJt 

'Bowl 

of 


When Jack saw the great knife raised above 
him he appeared greatly frightened and cried out 
“ If I must die, let me at least be allowed to 
choose what death I shall die. I would much 
rather eat soup until it killed me than to be 
slaughtered with that horrible knife.” The old 
woman thought it could make no difference by 
what means she disposed of him. So she prom- 
ised to let him have his way. She prepared a 
great bowl of soup, and setting it 
before Jack bade him eat and be 
quick about it. That did he; but ^ ff 

for every spoonful that he put into j 

his mouth he emptied six into 
the bag under his jacket. 

Just as the old woman was Jj 
wondering how Jack could eat so 
much, he pretended to become very sick and fell 
from the bench as if dead. But as he fell he 
slit open the bag so that all the soup ran out 
on the floor. 

The old woman supposed of course that Jack 
had died from over-eating. She clapped her 
hands in delight and ran out of the hut in search 
of the daughter who had gone to the well. As, 
however, it was raining fast, she first laid her 
beautiful cloak on a stool in the room where Jack 
lay apparently dead. But as she disappeared 
through the door Jack in a moment became alive 



252 


THE WITCH'S TREASURES. 



and well. He sprang quickly up and seizing the 
cloak ran nimbly down to the shore where he 
had left his boat, sprang into it and pushed 
out into the water. When the old woman saw 
that Jack was alive again, and also saw her 
cloak, which glittered on the water like a dia- 
mond, she was nearly beside herself. She rushed 
down to the shore and called out, “ Is that 
|\ 7, i you, Jack?” The youth answered, 
" x lc -3 “Yes, it is I, good mother.” “Have 
I^Ln terry you taken my beautiful cloak?” 
asked the witch. “Yes, good mother, I 
f have,” replied Jack. “Oh! are you not an 
arrant thief ? ” exclaimed the old woman. “ Yes, 
to be sure I am,” the youth called back. Then 
the old woman began to cry and lament and said, 
“ Ah ! how stupid was I ever to let you go. I 
knew well it would be ill for me if you went 
over to the court.” And with these words they 
parted, never to see each other again. 

Jack rowed back to the palace with all speed. 
The delighted king kept his word and gave his 
daughter in marriage to the clever youth. And 
now Jack was happy and contented all the rest 
of his life. But his two brothers were nothing 
but servants at the court as long as they lived. 


THE PRINCESS ON THE GLASS 


MOUNTAIN. 








♦ 




























. . 
































































































There was once a king who was very fond of 
the chase. He seemed to have no greater pleas- 
ure in life than to hunt down wild beasts. Early 
and late he was in the woods, with his pack of 
hounds and his attendants ; and he was always 
successful with his sport. 

One day it happened that he could find no 
game. He searched throughout the woods, from 
morning to sunset, but without success. 

When evening came on the king and his fol- 
lowers set out for home. As he was riding along 
he saw running before him through the woods a 
dwarf wild man. The dwarfs hair was long and 
shaggy, and his clothing was a rough bear’s skin. 
At once the king set spurs to his horse, and 
riding after the dwarf caught him. 

Both the king and his followers were surprised 
to see such a strange being ; for the wild man 
was as ugly as he was small, and his hair was 
matted together like sea-grass. When the king 
255 


256 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


spoke to him he would neither answer him nor 
speak a single word. Thereupon the king grew 
very angry ; for he was already provoked at his 
, want of luck in the chase that day. 
I he So he ordered his ser- 

vants to bind the wild man 
fast, that he might not 
escape, and carry him 
back with them to the 
palace. 

When they reached 
the court, the wild man 
was confined in the 
castle. 

It was the custom in those 
days for the king to have a 
banquet each evening with his cour- 
tiers. This feast was kept up until late in the 
night. 

That night as they sat at the table making 
merry, the king lifted high his hunting horn, 
and said, “ What do you think of our chase to- 
day ? Who shall say of us that we ever return 
from the chase without bringing some prey with 
us ? ” 



The courtiers answered : 

“ What you have said is, indeed, true ; and 
there is not to be found in all the world another 
such huntsman as your Majesty. And to-day 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


257 


yon have caught a wild animal, the like of which 
has never before been seen nor heard of.” These 
speeches pleased the king beyond measure, and 
he asked what they thought he had best do with 
the wild man. 

“ By all means,” replied the courtiers, “ have 
him confined in your court ; then may all peo- 
ple from far and near see for themselves what a 
great hunter is your Majesty. Only have him 
kept securely ; for he is no doubt cunning and 
clever, and will try his best to escape.” 

When the king had heard their reply, he was 
silent for a while, and then answered : 

“ I will do as you suggest, and it shall not be 
my fault if he breaks away. Moreover, I swear 
that whosoever shall help the wild man to escape, 
he shall die without mercy, were he my own 
son.” Thereupon the king took up his glass and 
emptied it as a pledge for his word. But alas ! 
his oath was dearly paid for. The courtiers 
looked at each other in surprise ; they had never 
heard the king speak so strongly before, and 
they saw clearly that the wine had gone to his 
head. 

When the king awoke next morning he remem- 
bered his foolish oath. He therefore sent at 
once for his workmen, and had a strong iron 
cage built in his palace garden. In the middle 
of the iron cage there was a door fastened by a 


258 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


padlock so strong that no one could break it. 
And on one side of the cage there was a hole 
just large enough to push the food through. 

When it was all finished the king had the 
wild man brought into the garden. Then he 
placed him in the cage and himself took the key. 
There the poor dwarf sat confined, day and night. 
And people came on horse and on foot to see him, 
but no one ever heard him complain or utter a sin- 
gle word. 

After a short time war broke out with another 
kingdom, and the king was obliged to go forth 
to the battle. 

Before he left the palace he said to the queen, 
“You will reign in my absence. I leave the 
land and people under your care. But one thing 
you must promise me, namely, that you will have 
the wild man well guarded while I am gone, so 
that he shall not escape.” 

The queen promised to do her best in every- 
thing ; so the king gave her the key of the cage. 
He then went on board his ship, hoisted his 
flags and sailed away to the wars. The queen 
stood on the shore and watched until the last 
flag disappeared in the distance, then she and 
her attendants returned to the court. 

How the king and queen had an only son. 
He was as yet only a child, but he gave promise 
of a brilliant career in the future. 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


259 


One day while the king was at the war, the 
little prince was wandering about the palace 
gardens and came at last to the wild man’s cage. 

He stood near the cage and played with his 
golden ball. While he was thus playing he 
threw the ball so hard that it bounced through 
the little hole in the iron cage. 

The wild man picked it up 
and threw it back to him. This 
seemed to the prince great fun, 
so he threw his ball again into 
the cage, and the dwarf returned 
it as before. Thus they played 
for quite a time. But at last 
the wild man seemed to grow 
tired of the play ; he kept the 
ball and would not return it. 

When the little prince found that neither 
threats nor entreaties would bring back his ball, 
he began to cry. Thereupon the wild man spoke 
for the first time since the king had captured 
him. “Your father,” he said, “has treated me 
shamefully. I will not give you back your ball 
unless you will set me free.” The little boy 
answered, “ How could I set you free ? Give 
me back my ball — my lovely gold ball ! ” The 
wild man said, “ If you want your ball back, you 
must do as I tell you. Go in and ask your 
mother to brush your hair, and while she is 




260 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


brushing it, do you steal the cage key from off' 
her girdle, without her knowing it. Then come 
here and open my cage. You can then replace 
the key in the same manner, and no one will ever 
find it out. Then I will give you your gold 
ball.” 

The boy did just as the wild man had told 
him. He asked his mother to brush his hair, 
and while she was doing so, he stole the cage 
key without her perceiving it. He then ran to 
the cage, opened the door, and let the wild man 
out. 

Before he left, the dwarf said, “ Here, I give 
you back your gold ball, as I have promised, and 
thank you very much for setting me free. And 
at any time, when you are in need of help, you 
may be certain that I will repay your kindness.” 
Then he ran off into the woods. 

But the little prince went back to his mother 
and replaced the key in the same way that he 
had taken it, without her knowing it. 

When it became known at the king’s court 
that the wild man had in some way been freed 
from his cage, the queen sent her servants far 
and near to search for him. But he had escaped, 
and could not be found again. 

As the time passed, the queen became more 
and more anxious to re-capture the wild man ; 
for she now daily expected her husband to 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


261 


return. At last she saw far out at sea the flags 
on his ships and all the people collected on the 
shore to welcome him home. 

He came back victorious ; but his first ques- 
tion was whether they had kept the wild man 
well guarded. Then the queen had to tell him 
that the wild man had es- 
caped, she knew not how, 
and could not be found 
again. 

At this the king 
became furious ; 
his rage gained ^ 
the mastery over 
his better nature, and he 
swore that the offender who 
had freed the dwarf should , , „ 

die, w r ere it his own son. Every 1 a §5 ^ 

one in his whole court was summoned, and each 
in turn questioned ; but no one knew anything 
of the wild man’s escape. 

At last it was the young prince’s turn to be 
questioned. When the king asked him if he 
knew how the wild man had been freed, he an- 
swered : 

“ I know that I deserve my father’s anger, 
but I cannot conceal the truth ; for it was 
I who let the wild man out of his cage.” At 
this answer the queen turned pale and all who 



Appiv&I of the 




262 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


heard his words were sad, for there was no one 
who did not love the young prince. 

After a long silence the king spoke as follows : 
“ Never shall it be said of me that I have broken 
my word; and though you are my own flesh 
and blood, yet you must die, as I have sworn.” 

Then the king ordered two of his servants to 
take the young prince into the woods and there 
slay him. He moreover ordered them to bring 
back the heart of the young prince, as a proof 
that they had obeyed his command. 

Now all the people lamented and mourned for 
the young prince and for his sorrowing mother, 
and they begged earnestly that mercy might be 
shown him. But the king’s word was irrevo- 
cable. The servants could but do as they were 
commanded. 

They took the boy between them and led him 
deep into the woods. Here they met a swine- 
herd minding his herd. Then said one to the 
other, “ It does not seem 
to me well that we 
should take the life 
of the king’s son. 
Let us rather buy one 



of these swine, 


and 


carry its 


heart to the king ; 
for no one will know that 

c) vn 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


263 


it is not the heart of the prince,” and this 
seemed a good idea to the other servant. 

So they bought a swine from the keeper, slew 
it, and took out its heart. But the young prince 
they bade go On his way, where he would ; only 
never to return to his father’s court. And it 
can well be imagined what grief and sorrow 
there was at court when the servants returned 
and reported the death of the young prince, 
whom they all loved. 

The prince did as the servants had told him. 
He wandered further and further from his 
father’s court, traveling as fast as he could. He 
had no food except the nuts and wild berries 
that he found in the woods. 

When he had wandered on for a long time he 
came at last to a mountain. On the top of this 
mountain there grew a very tall tree. Now the 
boy thought : “ I will climb that tree and see if 
I can discover any path.” No sooner said than 
done. 

When he had climbed to the very top of the 
tree, from where he could see for miles around, 
he saw, at some distance, a great palace which 
shone in the rays of the setting sun like pure 
gold. Then was his heart glad, and he turned 
his steps in the direction of the palace. 

The next day, as he was running on his way, 
he met a shepherd boy, who most willingly 


264 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


young- 


on 


changed clothes with him. Thus attired the 

reached the distant 
palace, and asked for 
employment. He was 
hired as a shepherd 
boy. Every day, 
from sunrise 
to sunset, in 
J the woods and 
jf in the meadows, 
he tended his 
flock. And as time 
^ ( flew by he forgot all his 
1 sorrows, and grew until he 
was larger and stronger than 
le in the whole kingdom. 

Now the king of this country had an 
only daughter. She was more beauti- 
than any other maiden in the land ; 
and her grace and proud bearing well became 
her high rank, and the throne to which she was 
heiress. 

When she had reached her sixteenth birthday, 
she had so many suitors that she could not count 
them ; and the number increased ever as the 
days went by. But as she would not decide in 
favor of any one of them, the king at last became 
impatient to know what answer he should give 
them. So he summoned his daughter, and 



THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


265 


begged her to choose among her numberless 
suitors which she would have. This she refused 
to do. 

Then the king became very angry and said, 
“ If you will not choose for yourself, then I must 
do so for you ; and though my choice may not 
suit your fancy, nevertheless you shall marry 
him.” 

When the king had thus spoken the maiden 
said, “ If I must marry so young, think not that 
I will have any one you may happen to choose. 
No ; I will have the man who, in a full suit of 
armor, mounted on his steed, can ride to the top 
of yonder glass mountain from the steep side. 
Him will I have, and none other.” This seemed 
to the king a good idea, and he consented to 
make the trial. He therefore had it proclaimed 
throughout his kingdom, that the one who could 
ride to the top of the glass mountain, should 
not only receive his daughter, but half the 
kingdom beside. 

On the day appointed for the first trial, the 
princess was escorted to the very top of the glass 
mountain ; she went by a secret path cut in the 
steps, on the further side. Upon a golden 
throne, placed, by order of the king, at the top 
of the mountain, the beautiful princess sat. 
Her crown was on her head, and in her hand she 
held a golden ball. She was so beautiful that 


266 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


all the suitors willingly risked their lives in the 
hope of winning so fair a bride. 

At the foot of the mountain were assembled 
all those who were to make trial for the prize of 
the princess’s hand. So glorious were their noble 
steeds, so bright was their shining armor, that the 
whole plain below sparkled like gold in the sun- 
light. From all parts of the kingdom the peo- 
ple flocked to see the horsemen attempt to ride 
up the glass mountain. 

At the appointed hour, the trumpets sounded, 
and the drums beat as a signal for the riders to 
start. Then all the suitors, one after the other, 
spurred on their steeds, and tried with all their 
might to gain the top of the glass mountain. 
But the mountain was high and steep, and was 
as smooth as ice. So difficult was the ascent that 
no one could ride but a very little way up, and 
then, head foremost, down the mountain horse 
and rider rolled. Arms or legs were broken in this 
rapid descent, and many a horse was killed or 
stunned by the fall. The cries of the fallen, 
the clashing of their armor, and the shouts of 
the people, raised such a tumult that the noise 
could be heard far away. 

While all this was going on, the king’s son 
wandered with his flock deep in the heart of the 
woods. But when all the noise and tumult from 
the glass mountain reached him he sat down on 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


267 


a stone, buried his face in his hands, and bemoaned 
his sad lot. Ah, he thought, would that I might 
try my fortune in scaling that difficult height. 

Suddenly he heard steps approaching, and as 
he raised his head, there stood the wild man 
before him. “Many thanks,” said the dwarf, 
“for the service you rendered me on that day 
when last we saw one another. But why sit you 
here so sorrowful and downcast ? ” 

The prince answered, “ How can I be other 
than sorrowful ? I cannot be merry. On your 
account I am banished forever from my father’s 
palace, and now I have not even a horse and 
armor that I may strive to win yonder beautiful 
princess.” 

“ 0, ho ! ” said the wild man ; “ is that all ? I 
can easily help you in your trouble. You 
helped me once when I needed your assist- 
ance ; now I will return your kindness.” With 
these words he took the prince by the hand and 
led him still further into the forest and down a 
flight of steps, deep into the earth where was his 
own subterranean abode. There he showed the 
youth a glittering suit of armor made of the 
finest steel. It was so bright and shining that 
rays of light seemed to flash out from it on every 
side. 

Near by stood a proud bay steed, all saddled 
and bridled, stamping and neighing with im- 


268 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


patience to be off. The wild man said, “ Hasten, 
now ; put on yonder armor and ride off to try 
your fortune. Fear nothing, and meanwhile I 
will tend your sheep. 7 ’ The prince needed no 
second invitation. He buckled on the armor, 
fastened the spurs on his feet, and the sword by 
his side, and moved as lightly in his steel armor 
as does a bird in the air. Every link in his 
armor jingled merrily as he sprang into the 
saddle ; tightly he grasped the bridle-rein, and 
with lightning speed galloped off toward the 
a glass mountain. 

The suitors of the prin- 
^ cess had just finished 

their great test of horse- 
manship. Not one had 
won the prize, although 
they had all tried their 
i very best. 

^ e As now they stood 
at the foot of the 
u mountain dis- 

j*m°r. cuss j n g the 
discomfiture of the 
vs morning, and won- 
p 0 dering what possi- 
,v ' bilities there 
were of some 
one among them 



THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


269 


winning the prize upon the next day’s test, they 
saw galloping from the forest a young knight. 
Straight toward the glass mountain he rode. He 
was cased in steel from head to foot ; gay plumes 
waved above his helmet, his shield was on his arm, 
his sword at his side. He kept his seat so firmly 
and rode so proudly that every one was anxious 
to see the stranger knight. Who could he be ? 
they asked. Ho one knew him ; none had ever 
seen him before. But the prince gave them little 
time for thought or question. Scarcely was he 
out of the woods before he had reached the moun- 
tain, and without stopping for a moment, he raised 
himself in the saddle, dashed his spurs into the 
steed, and went flying up the steep ascent as 
though it had been an open plain. But he did not 
ride to the top ; for when about half-way up, the 
steed suddenly swung himself around and came 
dashing down the mountain with such speed that 
the fire flashed from beneath his hoofs. In a 
moment he had disappeared into the woods. 

It can well be imagined that the people were 
greatly astonished. They talked of nothing else 
but of the stranger knight and his magnificent 
steed and armor. As for the princess, who from 
her high seat on the mountain had caught but a 
glimpse of the glittering stranger, she was so 
struck with his proud bearing that she dreamed 
every night of the brave young horseman. 


270 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


Thus the time passed, until at last another 
day was appointed on which the suitors of the 
princess were for the second time to try their 
skill and luck. Again the princess seated her- 
self upon her throne at the very top of the glass 
mountain. Again at the foot of the mountain 
all the suitors assembled with prancing steeds 
and shining armor, so that the whole plain 
sparkled and glistened, as does the rippling sea 
in the sunshine. And once again all the people 
for miles around flocked to see the great sight 
and to watch the efforts of the horsemen. 

When all was ready the bugles sounded and 
the drums beat, as the signal for the start. 
Then each suitor spurred his horse and tried 
with all his might to force his way up the steep 
side of the mountain. Yet none could go but a 
little way on the slippery ground, and as before 
one after another, horses and riders, slipped and 
rolled head foremost to the mountain’s foot. And 
the cries of the fallen, the shouts of the people, 
and the noise of clashing armor was heard far 
within the forest. 

Just at this time the prince was watching his 
flock as usual. When he heard all the noise 
and shouts of the people, he sat down on a stone, 
buried his face in his hands and wept, for he 
thought of the beautiful princess and wished that 
once again he might try his luck with the others. 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


271 


Suddenly lie heard footsteps, and looking up 
again he saw the dwarf before him. 

“ Good day ! ” said the little man. “ Why do 
you sit here so sad and sorrowful ? ” “ I have 

cause to be sad,” answered the prince. “ On your 
account I am banished from my father’s palace, 
and now I have not even a horse and armor that 
I may try to win the lovely princess.” 

“If that be all,” said the wild man, “I can 
easily comfort you. In time of need, you gave 
me your assistance, and now I will help you in 
return.” 

With this promise he took the prince by the 
hand and led him again deep down into the earth, 
and showed him a complete suit of armor made 
all of the purest silver, and sparkling like a dia- 
mond. Near by stood a noble steed, black as 
coal, with trappings of silver to match the armor, 
all ready saddled and bridled, stamping and 
neighing with impatience to be off. 

“Now,” said the wild man, “make haste; arm 
yourself and be off to try your luck ; meanwhile, 
I will watch your sheep.” 

With all speed the prince buckled on his ar- 
mor, made fast his helmet, spurs and sword, and 
moved as lightly in his silver armor as does a 
bird in the air. Then he sprang into the saddle, 
grasped the bridle and rode off toward the glass 
mountain. 


272 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


The suitors of the princess had finished their 
unsuccessful trials of the day ; not one had won 
the prize. Suddenly they saw a horseman dash 
from the woods and gallop toward the mountain. 
From head to foot he was cased in silver armor ; 
helmet, shield and sword rested gracefully upon 
him. He sat his horse with such ease and grace, 
and yet so firmly ; he managed his horse so well, 
that all eyes were fastened upon him. The peo- 
ple recognized him as the stranger knight who 
had ridden so gallantly on the first day of the 
sport, and who had so suddenly vanished into the 
woods. 

But the prince did not give them much time 
for wondering ; scarcely had he reached the plain, 
when rising in the saddle, and dashing the spurs 
into his steed, he rushed like a flash of fire up the 
mountain side. Yet he did not quite reach the 
summit; for just as he neared the top, just as he 
saluted the princess with a wave of his helmet, 
his steed suddenly wheeled around and like a 
flash of lightning, flew down the mountain side 
and into the woods. This caused a still greater 
commotion than did the first day’s occurrence, 
and every one wondered who the stranger could 
be. But all were certain that they had never 
before seen so magnificent a steed, or so stately 
a knight. Moreover, it was said of the princess 
by those whose eyes were sharpest, that when 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


273 


the stranger knight greeted her at the top of the 
mountain, she blushed as red as the reddest of 
roses. 

Again the days passed by and then the king 
appointed a third and last day, on which the 
suitors were to try their skill and luck. The 
princess was again seated upon her throne on the 
very top of the glass mountain. There as before, 
she sat with the crown on her head and the gold 
ball in her hand. 

Again all the suitors assembled on the plain at 
the foot of the mountain, with their finest steeds 
and sparkling armor, and the sight was gorgeous 
to behold. 

Thither, from miles around, the people flocked 
in dense crowds to see the final contest between 
the rival suitors. 

At last all was ready ; the signal was given and 
then, one after the other, each suitor spurred on 
his steed with all his strength, hoping to gain the 
summit of the mountain. But as before one and 
all failed in the attempt. For the mountain was 
smooth and steep, so that no horse was able 
to ascend but a little way and then, stumbling 
backward, down to the very foot of the 
mountain rolled horse and rider, unsuccessful 
as before. 

The shrieks of the horses, the cries of the 
wounded, the shouts of the people, and the clash- 


274 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


ing of armor, raised such a tumult, that the noise 
could be heard far within the forest. 

Now the prince at this time was watching his 
flock as usual, and had led them far into the 
woods. When he heard all the noise and shouting, 
he sat down on the ground, buried his face in his 
hands, and wept bitterly ; for he thought of the 
lovely princess and would gladly have risked his 
life to win her for his bride. 

“ Good day ; wherefore are you crying so bit- 
terly ? ” said a voice beside him, and looking up, 
he saw the wild man standing close by. 

“ I cannot restrain my tears,” said 

the prince. “ On your It / _ . ^ account am I 


prince 
banished 
and now 


■jKefln.'o 
to 

l aoa 


father’s house ; 
not even ahorse 
and armor that 
1 ma y try 


«£i 



princess. 

“ 0, ho ! ” said 
the dwarf, “ I can 
^'^7 easily bring you com- 
fort. You helped me 
once, and now I will re- 
turn your kindness.” 


v 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


275 


He then took the prince by the hand, led him 
to his cavern far beneath the earth, and there 
showed him a suit of armor with helmet, sword 
and shield, all made of pure gold. So glittering 
was the gallant display that the rays of light 
reflected from the armor, shone like the sun 
itself. 

Near by stood a giant steed as white as snow. 
His trappings were all of the finest gold, set with 
precious stones. He was already saddled and 
bridled, and he stamped and neighed in his im- 
patience to be off ; so restlessly did he champ at 
his bit that the white foam was tossed from his 
mouth. 

“Now,” said the wild man, “be quick ; put on 
your armor and go — try your fortune.” 

The prince obeyed without loss of time. He 
buckled on the armor, the helmet and the spurs, 
and fastened the sword by his side. And now 
he moved as lightly and nimbly in his golden 
armor as a fish darts through the water. Lightly 
he sprang into the saddle, tightly he grasped the 
bridle-rein and was off like a flash for the glass 
mountain. 

The suitors of the princess had finished their 
final contest ; each rider had tried his very best, 
yet none had won the prize. As they stood on 
the plain talking disconsolately of their failures, 
suddenly they saw a young horseman dart from 


276 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


the woods and gallop straight toward the mount- 
ain. From head to foot he was cased in sparkling 
gold : his helmet and shield, his spurs and sword 
were all of the same dazzling metal. He sat so 
proudly and yet so gracefully in the saddle that 
his horsemanship was unequalled by any knight 
whom the people had ever before seen. All 
greeted his appearance with shouts and cheers, 
for they recognized in him the knight who had 
appeared on the two previous days. But the 
prince did not give them much time to see him, 
for as soon as he had reached the plain, he raised 
himself in the saddle, dashed the golden spurs 
into his steed and sped like a flash of lightning 
up the steep mountain slope. 

When he had attained the very summit, he 
sprang from his horse, saluted the princess with 
all knightly courtesy, bent the knee before her, 
and grasped the golden ball from her fair-hands. 
Then throwing himself again upon his steed, he 
dashed down the mountain, so that fire flashed 
from under his steed’s gold-shod hoofs. Then he 
vanished into the woods like a glowing meteor. 

Now there was great rejoicing among the peo- 
ple ; the drums beat, the trumpets sounded, and 
all were merry and glad. And the king made 
proclamation far and near that an unknown 
knight had won the great prize. 

What the princess thought the people could 


THE GLASS' MOUNTAIN. 


277 


not say ; but it was whispered among them that 
the crimson blush of pleasure covered the prin- 
cess’ face when the stranger knight took from 
her hands the golden ball. 

It now only remained for the knight of the 
golden armor to make his appearance and claim 
his bride. None knew where he lived, but all 
expected on their return to find him waiting at 
the palace with the golden ball. But he was not 
there and he did not come. 

All wondered greatly at his delay, and the 
longer he tarried away, the paler and more restless 
the princess became. The king at last grew im- 
patient and the knights and nobles were incensed 
at the victor’s long tarrying, and murmured more 
and more each day. 

As the king could think of no other way to 
find the unknown knight, he proclaimed through- 
out his kingdom that on a certain day all suitors 
of the princess, high and low, rich and poor, 
should assemble in the palace court, and then the 
princess herself should choose among them whom 
she would wed. 

On the appointed day a countless number as- 
sembled in the court. Then the princess stepped 
out, attended by her maids, and went around 
among them all. But though she looked closely 
at the face of every knight and noble, yet she 
found not the one whom she sought. 


278 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


When she had gone around to the very outer- 
most circle of the throng, she suddenly spied 
among a crowd of village people, a young man 
who seemed to rivet her attention. He wore 
upon his head a common hat and had thrown 
carelessly around him the gray cloak of a shep- 
herd. His hat was pulled low down over his 
face, so that his features could scarcely be dis- 
cerned. But the princess made her way quickly 
through the astonished crowd, pushed back the 
hat from his face and grasping him by his arm, 
she cried out loudly, 

“He is here, he is here ! I have found the 
victor at last.” 

~J] X e At this all the people 

’Pince laughed ’ for the y 

saw that the 

throws off one whom she 
. tke c- l ] r had found 
(eyKepberxic was only 
„] J] ^ the king’s 
Cl ^ k - shepherd. 
And the king himself ex- 
claimed, 

“Now Heaven forbid that 
I should ever have such a 
son-in-law ! ” 

But the young man was 
in nowise abashed. With head 



THE GLASS MOUNTAIN 


279 


erect he made answer: “Do not grieve yourself, 
0, King ; I am the son of one as great as your- 
self.” 

Thereupon he threw off the shepherd’s cloak, 
and lo ! the people ceased from their laughter, 
and broke out into an universal shout of joy. 
For there in place of the gray shepherd stood a 
handsome young prince, cased from head to foot 
in armor of glittering gold; and in his right hand 
he held the princess’s golden ball. Then all 
the people recognized him as the same brave 
knight who had reached the summit of the glass 
mountain. 

At once there was great rejoicing throughout 
the whole kingdom. And the prince took his 
beloved princess in his arms, embraced her fondly 
and told her all about his home, and his parents, 
and why he had been obliged to live in disguise, 
far from his father’s kingdom. 

The king was rejoiced to have such a son-in- 
law. He had the marriage feast prepared at 
once and set with such splendor and magnificence 
that the like was never before seen nor heard of. 
All the king’s sons, and all the knights and nobles 
from far and near, were invited to the wedding. 
And the prince received his beautiful bride and 
with her half the kingdom. 

The wedding festivities continued for a full 
week, and then the prince took his bride to his 


280 


THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. 


own father’s palace. There he was received with 
the greatest rejoicings; and the king and queen 
both wept for joy at once again seeing the son 
whom they had so long mourned as dead. 

After a short stay the prince and princess re- 
turned to their own kingdom. There they lived 
many happy years. But the wild man of the 
woods was never heard of more. 


A STORY OF TWO BROTHERS. 





















































There was once a king who was ruler over a 
mighty kingdom and beloved by all his subjects. 
His queen was very beautiful and he loved her 
more than all else in the world. After a while 
a child was given to them. But some months 
after the child’s birth the queen died. The king 
was terribly distressed at her death. He trans- 
ferred all his affections to his little daughter, 
and he loved her so dearly that he could not bear 
to have her out of his sight. 

In time the little princess grew to be the most 
beautiful maiden that could be found in the king- 
dom. The fame of her beauty spread far and 
wide, and countless princes and nobles came to 
woo her. Her father, however, refused them all. 
But when he saw that the princess really fancied 
several of her suitors, he rested neither day nor 
night for fear she might be induced to leave him. 
On an island which was surrounded by broad and 
283 


284 


TWO BE OTHERS. 



Hi.dK Ckbtle 

^ or\ tke 

A. 


&TV 


deep water, he built a high castle, and there he 
placed the princess with her maid-servant. . 

One night the princess had a strange 
dream. She dreamed that she wan- 
dered about the castle until she came 
to a secret flight of steps ; at the 
end of the steps she came to a 
secret door ; and when she had 
opened the door she looked out 
^ ” upon a mountain which she had 

' ' never seen before. Down the side 

of the mountain rail a clear rip- 
pling stream which glittered in the 
sunshine like a sea of gold. She 
stooped and drank of the stream 
and it seemed to her, in her dream, that she had 
never tasted anything so delightful. 

When the princess awoke the next morning 
she could not banish the dream from her mind, 
and she related it to her maid. The maid was 
astonished when she heard her mistress ; for on 
that same night she too had dreamed the very 
same dream. 

Both maid and mistress saw plainly that there 
was some mystery connected with their dreams, 
and they desired exceedingly to find the stream. 
They looked, therefore, carefully around the 
castle and discovered at length a hidden flight of 
steps at the end of which was a secret door. As 


iji 


TWO BROTHERS. 


285 


they passed through the door they saw 
the very same stream of which they 
had both dreamed, flowing down 
from a mountain side ; and they ^ 
were dazzled by the brightness fr 4 
of the stream as the sun 
shone full upon it. They 
stooped and drank thereof, and 
behold ! it was as sweet as cor- 
dial. As they raised their lips 
from the water, lo ! in the 
very spots where they had just 
drank two lily stalks sprang 
up. At the end of each was a 
lily bud. As the maidens gazed 
in amazement at the flowers, 
behold ! the buds opened, grew 
and expanded until they be- 
came two huge lilies. In the center 
of each lily there was a little child. When the 
babes saw the maidens they held out their arms 
and cried to be taken up. So the princess took 
the babies with her to the castle. 

When the king came that day to see his daugh- 
ter he heard of all that had happened, and saw 
at once that the babes were no ordinary children, 
but were sent up from the water by some magi- 
cian. He took both babies back with him to the 
palace and there had them tenderly cared for. 



286 


TWO BBOTHEBS. 


After what had happened the king thought the 
castle must be near some magician’s cave, and 
feared to leave his daughter there longer. He 
came, therefore, to think better of his hasty 
resolution and had the princess brought back to 
the palace. Then he summoned all her suitors 
and bade her choose among them one whom she 
would have; naming but one condition in the 
choice. This was, that the princess was not to 
leave her father’s palace ; but was to remain 
there with her husband, and after the king’s 
death to ascend the throne. 

Both babies were boys, and the king named the 
one whom the princess had taken from the water 
Wassermann, and the one whom the maid had 
taken up, he named Wassersein. 

The boys grew to be large and strong, and 
when fifteen years of age they asked permission 
of the king to go out into the world and seek 
their fortunes. 

The boys had often been to the stream from 
which they had been taken when babies, to see 
if they could not learn something concerning the 
strange way in which they had been brought into 
the world. Before setting out on their journey 
they went to take a farewell of the stream. As 
they turned from the water to start on their trav- 
els they saw by the side of the stream an old man. 
With one hand he led two dogs and in the other 


TWO BROTHERS. 


287 


he carried a spear, a bow and a quiver of arrows. 
He approached the lads and said, “ You are about 
to start on a long journey ; take these two dogs 
with you, and never, under any circumstances, 
be separated from them ; they will be faithful and 
true to you.” Then he handed to Wassermann 
the spear and to Wassersein the bow and arrows, 
saying, “ These also you will find of use. And 
now I will tell you how you came to be found in 
the water. You are brothers; both sons of a 
poor peasant who offended me some time before 
your birth, by cruelty to some insects of which 
I was particularly fond. I therefore stole you 
away from him and caused the princess to find 
you. Now, if you will do but right and be kind 
to all creatures, I will help you to fame and 
riches. One thing more only, I have to say to 
you — never speak before any one of the things 
which have happened at this stream.” 

The youths would have thanked the old mail 
for his great kindness, but as he spoke the last 
words he disappeared. 

When they had gone some distance the lads 
came to a thick forest. They began to hunt with 
their dogs for something to eat. Suddenly they 
saw a great bear. Wassermann calle'd out to his 
companion, “ Do you shoot, and I will throw my 
spear.” But the bear begged for her life and 
said, “ Do not shoot, do not throw. I have in my 


288 


TWO Bit OTHERS. 


cave two cubs and I will give you each one if you 
will spare my life. ,? This seemed fair to the 
youths ; and the bear brought her cubs to them 
and said that they would pay well for sparing 
her life. 

The next day as they were hunting in the for- 
est with their animals they came upon a great 
lioness. Wassermann immediately called to 
Wassersein, “ Do you shoot, and I will throw my 
spear.” But the lioness answered as the bear 
had done, “ Do not shoot, do not throw ; I have 
in my den two whelps, and I will give 
you each one, if you will spare 
my life.” The youths con- 
sented, and the lioness 
brought them her two 
^ whelps, saying that 
-^ e they would more than 
pay for sparing her 
life. The animals 
followed their mas- 
ters, and were obe- 
dient and faithful 
in all things. 

When the youths 
had wandered some 
distance they came 
to a place where 
two roads met. At 



TWO BE OTHERS. 


289 


the very point where the two paths crossed there 
grew a mighty oak. Then Wassermann said, 
“ Here, brother, I think, our path must separate. 
Do you go one way, I will go the other ; and, I 
doubt not, we shall meet again. Wassersein an- 
swered, “ In this, as in everything else, you must 
have your way ; but how shall I ever hear how 
you are getting on in the world, and whether or 
not you are safe and well ? Wassermann replied, 
“ See ! I thrust my knife into this tree, and this 
shall be to you a sign : when this knife rusts 
then I am in great danger ; if it is bloody then 
may you know that I am dead.” 

After these words the youths bade each other 
farewell. Wassermann went one way with his 
animals and met with many wonderful adven- 
tures which will be rehearsed later. Wassersein 
chose the other path ; and he had not wandered 
long before he came to an ancient-looking palace 
surrounded by woods, and nowhere around could 
a footprint of man be seen. 

Just as Wassersein neared the palace a great 
storm came up and the rain poured down in tor- 
rents, so that the youth was forced to seek shelter 
for himself and his animals. He went therefore 
to the castle door and knocked ; but no one an- 
swered. After he had knocked for some time, 
the door was opened by an old and very ugly 
woman. She asked who it was that knocked so 


290 


TWO BROTHERS. 


loudly. Wassersein answered that he was a 
wanderer who sought some employment, and 
begged for shelter from the storms. 

The old woman replied, “ You are welcome, for 
just now I need a servant, and if you will serve 
me faithfully I will pay you well.” Thereupon 
she led him in and gave him food and a place in 
which to sleep. 

Now this old woman was a wicked witch and 
by her looks she meant no good to Wassersein 
or his animals. 

Next morning as soon as it was light, the old 
woman came to Wassersein and said she would 
that was worth seeing in the 
castle and the surrounding 
grounds. The youth fol- 
lowed her and saw so many 
wonderful things that it 
would take too long to 
write of them all. At last 
they came to a meadow. 
On this meadow there were 
thousands of ducks, so that 
, ' jj e the whole ground was cov- 

Waek ered with them. The witch 
said, “ These ducks belong to the 
castle, and you need not be afraid 
to tread on them.” Then she went 
on ahead to lead the way. But Wassersein pitied 



TWO Bit OTHERS. 


291 


the poor ducks and was careful not to hurt one. 
Moreover, he strictly forbade his animals to dis- 
turb them. 

When at last they came to the end of the 
meadow, the king of the ducks stepped forward 
and said, “ Many thanks, noble sir, for your 
kindness to my ducks. If you are ever in dan- 
ger or perplexity, think of me and I will come 
and serve you.” Thereupon the duck-king dis- 
appeared before the witch had noticed him. 

Then the two went on and came to a second 
meadow, which was completely covered with 
thousands of armies of ants crawling on the 
ground. The witch said, “ These ants belong to 
my castle and you need not be afraid to crush 
them.” 

But Wassersein felt sorry for the industrious 
little ants and was careful to pick his way among 
them and not to tread on one. He also charged 
his animals not to harm them. 

When they reached the end of the meadow, 
the king of the ants crawled forth and said, 
“ Many thanks, generous youth, for your care of 
my ants. If you are ever in trouble, think of me 
and I will give you aid.” But the witch did not 
see or hear the ant-king. 

The witch and youth now passed on until they 
came to a third meadow. Here they found 
swarms and swarms of bees ; a countless number, 


292 


TWO BROTHERS. 


so that not only the air, but the ground also was 
filled with the buzzing insects. The witch then 
turned to Wassersein and said, “You need not 
fear to kill these creatures, for they belong to 
my castle and they cannot hurt you.” 

But Wassersein pitied the busy, active bees, 
and was careful not to injure one. He also 
charged his animals not to hurt a single bee. 

When they came to the end of the meadow the 
bee-king flew forward and said, “Many thanks, 
good friend, for your care of my bees. If ever 
you need any help, think of me and I will serve 
you.” Then he flew away before the witch had 
noticed him. 

The next day the witch said to Wassersein, 
“ Now it is high time that you should begin your 
work. Your first work shall be this : Long, long 
ago, here in the castle court I lost a golden key, 
which unlocks the door of the western turret. 
Now it is my wish and my command to you that 
you find this key before sunrise to-morrow. If 
you cannot, it will cost you your life.” With 
this threat the witch went away. 

Now Wassersein was sadly troubled and knew 
not how to escape from this great danger, for he 
knew not where to look for the key. He wan- 
dered about sadly all day and when evening came 
he had not found the key. As now the youth sat 
on the ground in the court thinking of his great 


TWO BROTHERS. 


danger, the thought came into his mind, “ Per- 
haps the ducks could help me.” 

Scarcely had he thus thought, when the duck- 
king stood before him and asked, “Why are you 
so sad ? ” 

Wassersein answered, “ The witch has com- 
manded me to find a golden key which was lost 
here long years ago, and if I do not find it, she 
will take away my life.” 

The duck-king replied, “ Be comforted. I have 
not forgotten your kindness to „ 

my ducks yesterday. Now ^ 

I will serve you in re- 
turn.” 

Then the duck-king 
called a troop of his 
ducks and went with 
them to a pond at the 
end of the court. Thev 


\Vi 

all dived to the very \ • J 
bottom and searched 
there until they found the 
missing key. The duck-king 
then carried it quickly to the youth, who was 
rejoiced when he saw the key, and went merrily 
back to the castle. 

Early next morning the witch came and asked 
if Wassersein had fulfilled her command. When 
the lad showed her the gold key, she changed 



294 


TWO BROTHERS. 


color and her face became ashy- pale, and she left 
the room, saying, “ You did not do that without 
help.” 

Later in the day the witch came again and led 
Wassersein to an apartment where she had mixed 
a great quantity of different "grains in a huge pile 
on the ground. The witch said, “ Your second 
work will be to separate these grains. You shall 
put every grain of barley in one heap, every grain 
of wheat in another, and every grain of oats in 
another. When I come in the morning, if I find 
one grain of barley in with the oats, or one grain 
of wheat with the barley, it will cost you your 
life.” With this threat the witch left the room. 

The lad sat himself down on the ground and 
began to separate the barley, the wheat, and the 
oats, grain by grain. But as he had expected, 
the evening came and he had only separated the 
smallest bit of the pile, and he saw it was quite 
impossible to finish even half the task before 
morning. 

But as Wassersein sat brooding over his 
sad fate, suddenly the thought crossed his 
'a mind, “ Perhaps the ants could help me.” 

Jpr Scarcely had he thus thought, when 
A lo! the ant king stood before him, and 
asked, “ Why do you grieve so ? ” 

The lad answered, “ The witch has commanded 
me to separate all this mass of grains and put 


TWO BROTHERS. 


295 


each kind in a separate pile, and I cannot do it ; 
it is quite impossible. And if I do not accom- 
plish the task before morning light, I will be 
killed.” 

Then the ant-king replied, “Be comforted. I 
have not forgotten the service you rendered me, 
and now I will repay you.” 

The ant-king then disappeared, but soon re- 
turned with a countless number of ants. They 
all set to work at once on the pile, each ant tak- 
ing a grain at a time. In a few hours every 
grain was on the pile where it belonged; the 
barley, the wheat and the oats, each in a separate 
pile. The youth thanked the ant-king heartily, 
and then all the ants departed. 

With the first rays of the sun came the old 
witch and asked if Wassersein had done as she 
had commanded him. He answered “Yes,” and 
showed her the three piles ; and not one grain 
could be found where it did not belong. Then 
the witch became black in the face with rage and 
went out of the room in a fury, at the same time 
saying, “You did not do that without help.” 

Later in the day the witch returned and led 
Wassersein to a great hall, in which stood seven 
pictures of seven beautiful maidens. The witch 
said, “This shall be your third work. You shall 
tell me which of these seven pictures is the en- 
chanted princess who reigned over this kingdom 


296 


TWO BROTHERS. 





not do tka>t 

WltKovt 
kelp 




before I 
came here. 

' If you can 
tell me cor- 
rectly, then your power here will be 
greater than mine. But if you cannot tell 
me, it will cost you your life, as it has many 
another youth before you. To morrow at 
sunrise, both your fate and mine will 
be decided.” With these words she 
stamped her feet and left the hall. 

Wassersein stood before the pictures 
and studied them carefully. They 
were so beautiful that the sight 
^ ' * made his heart glad. Raiment, atti- 

tudes and features were so exactly alike, that no 
one could discover any difference between them. 
He studied the pictures ; but when he saw that 
there was no way for him to tell which was the 
enchanted princess, he threw himself 
down upon the floor and gave up all 
hopes of life. Suddenly it flashed 
across his mind that perhaps the of ^ 
little bees could help him. Immedi- 
ately there appeared the bee-king, 
who asked him wherefore he seemed so downcast. 

Wassersein answered, “The witch has com- 
manded me to tell her which of these seven pict- 
ures is the enchanted princess, who used to reign 



TWO BBOTHEES. 


297 



over this kingdom. If I cannot show the right 
one by sunrise to-morrow, I must die.” 

“ Oh ! be of good cheer,” replied 
the bee-king. “You served me 
the other day, and now I will 
show my gratitude.” 

The bee-king then flew 
away; but returned, almost 
immediately, with a multi- 
tude of other bees. Now 
the whole swarm lighted 
upon one of the pict- 
ures and rested 
there for some 
moments. By 
this sign 




Wasser- 
sein knew 
that this was the 
picture of the prin- 
cess. He marked -p 
well which one it 1 
was and thanked 
the bees with all 
his heart. Then he 
was left alone. At the 
earliest 


dawn of day the 


298 


TWO BROTHERS. 



witch came and asked Wassersein if he had 
found out which picture was that of the prin- 
cess. He answered “Yes,” and pointed to the 
one on which the bees had alighted. When the 
witch saw that her power was at an end, she 
shrieked aloud, tore her hair and scratched her 
face. 

As the old witch uttered her cry, all the pict- 
ures became alive. The beautiful princess fell 
into the arms of Wassersein and thanked him 
for delivering her from her long enchantment. 
The six witches in the other six pictures raised 
themselves in the air and flew away with the old 
witch with such violence that they carried away 
with them the whole roof of the palace. In that 
same instant the whole court underwent a great 
change. All the doors flew open and all the 
courtiers and servants became alive, and the prin- 
^ cess was hailed by all as 
\*/&£>ser<5eir\5 q ueen Then a great wed- 
f rince.jj. ding f ea st was prepared 
and Wassersein received the 
beautiful princess for his bride, and 
reigned with her over the kingdom in content 
and happiness for many years. 

But in the midst of all his joy, he could not 
forget his brother. Every day he went to the tree 
at the cross path to see by the knife how his 
brother fared. 


TWO BROTHERS. 


299 


The tale must now turn to Wassermann. 
After leaving his brother he traveled on until 
he came to a great city where all the people were 
dressed in mourning and went about noiselessly, 
showing plainly by their whole demeanor that 
there was some great trouble and affliction in 
their land. 

When Wassermann came to the nearest inn, 
he inquired of the host what was the cause of the 
people’s great grief. The host answered, “ Surely 
you must have come from afar, that you know 
not the talk of the whole kingdom. I will tell 
you. The king’s castle is built on enchanted 
ground and every year a dragon appears and 
demands a young maiden whom he devours. 
But alas ! this year the maiden whom he has 
chosen is the king’s only daughter. There is no 
one to be found who can deliver her from this 
horrible death, although to the man who will 
slay the dragon, the king has promised the prin- 
cess as a bride and half the riches of his king- 
dom. One week from this very day the dragon 
will come and demand her.” 

Now as Wassermann heard all this strange 
news his courage was roused within him and he 
determined to try to win the princess and thereby 
gain riches and fame. 

At a mountain which lay not far from the city, 
the dragon always met the maiden whom he had 


300 


TWO BROTHERS. 




demanded. Thither "VVassermann went with 
some workmen. At the foot of this mountain 
he built a little hut out of large stones and iron. 
He so constructed it that the door could be 
opened only from the inside. 

On the appointed day, Wassermann 
stood by his little stone hut and 
awaited the princess. He had not 
waited long before he saw a golden 
chariot drawing nigh. In it sat 
^ the king’s daughter, while many people 
from the city followed after the 
chariot. But when the princess 
saw the mountain she buried her 
face in her hands and wept 
bitterly. 

Then Wassermann stepped for- 
ward, saluted the princess and asked, 
“ Noble princess, why do you sit here 
bathed in tears ? ” 

The king’s daughter answered, “ I have good 
cause to cry, for my father has promised me to a 
dreadful dragon. Go hence, fair sir ; to-day there 
will be a sad sight here to witness.” 

Wassermann replied, “ I fear not the dragon ; 
I would await him were he thrice the monster 
he must be. Will you but promise to return my 
love, I will gladly risk my life for your safety.” 
By this promise the princess was somewhat 



TWO BROTHERS. 


301 


comforted, for she trusted the noble youth and 
they talked together for some time. Suddenly 
from beneath the mountain came a loud rumbling 
noise. Then the youth sprang up, exclaiming, 
“Hark! the dragon comes. It is time to pre- 
pare myself for the battle. Adieu, fair princess ! 
the thought of you shall strengthen me in the 
fight.” 

Then taking the maiden by the hand, he led 
her to the little hut which he had built at the 
foot of the mountain. There the princess sat, 
filled with a great fear and anxiety as to the 
issue of the battle. But Wassermann at once 
went forward to meet the dragon, and was 
speedily engaged in furious strife. 

The dragon defended himself savagely with 
teeth and claws ; he threw from his mouth fire 
and stones, so that the people dared not approach 
for fear of their lives. But Wassermann struck 
the monster thrice in the eyes, ran his spear 
through its back and dealt it many a heavy blow. 
The lion, the bear and the dog also did their part 
in the battle and they rested not from the strife 
until the dragon lay dead in the grass. 

Wassermann had not gained the victory over 
the great dragon without receiving many deep 
wounds. But he was carried back to the palace 
amid cheers and shouts of triumph. There he 
was carefully cared for and when sufficiently re- 


302 


TWO BE 0 THEE S. 


covered, the king prepared a great wedding 
feast, gave him the princess as his bride, and 
proclaimed him ruler over 
half his kingdom. 


Tke 

Dr&.Qjorv 


\ 




One evening 

when Wassermann and his 
bride were sitting together, he 
noticed a great fire flaring here 
and there as if all the woods were' 
in flames. The young prince asked his wife what 
this could be, and would have started off at once 
to see what was the matter ; but the princess 
was terribly frightened at the idea of his going, 
and answered, “ Oh ! do not go, by all that is dear 
to you in the world, for it will surely cost you 
your life. This fire has raged every night since 
you slew the dragon, and I fear it is the work of 
some magician •, perchance even a friend of the 
dragon would entrap and slay you out of revenge 
for the monster’s death.” 


: .7 J 


r\\ 


TWO BROTHERS. 


303 


Wassermann replied nothing, for he did not 
wish to grieve his bride. But he could not sleep 
that night, because of his great desire to go forth 
into the wood and discover the cause of the 
disturbance. 

Early next day before it was light, Wasser- 
mann arose, called his animals and went forth as 
if to hunt. He wandered about in the enchanted 
wood all day, but he could neither see nor hear 
anything that could account for the strange sight 
he had seen the night before. Toward evening a 
thick darkness fell upon the forest. It was ac- 
companied with heavy frost and fog, and Wasser- 
mann could not find his way out of the wood. 
He therefore gathered together some brushwood 
and kindled a fire to keep himself and animals 
warm. 

Now, as he stood by the fire warming himself, 
Wassermann heard a whining voice, saying, 
“ O-oh, o-oh ! I am freezing.” Wassermann 
looked around, but could discover nothing in the 
darkness, except that his animals seemed very 
restless. After awhile, he heard the same voice 
again, saying, “ O-oh, o-oh ! I am freezing. ” 
Again the youth looked around, and now he 
saw an old woman sitting close by on the stump 
of a tree and shivering with cold. Wassermann 
pitied the poor woman, although her appearance 
repelled him, for she was extremely ugly, and 


304 


TWO BBOTHEBS. 


looked more like an old witch than an honest 
woman. He sought to raise her from the tree 
and bring her nearer to the fire, that she might 
get warm. The old woman, however, appeared 
to be very much frightened, and said, “I dare 
not go nearer to your savage animals.” 

Wassermann assured her that the animals 
were not dangerous, but the woman would not 
believe him. At last, however, she said, “Lay 
this twig across the backs of your animals. If 
they do not stir, then shall I see that they are 
obedient.” 

The youth did as she desired. Immediately 
the old woman sprang up from the stump and 
became a great genie. Then said she, “You 
have killed my brother, and now I will avenge 
his death.” 

Startled by these words, Wassermann sprang 
to his feet and called upon his animals. But 
alas ! they lay motionless on the ground as if 
they were dead. Then the youth saw what a 
mistake he had made in placing the magic twig 
upon the backs of his animals. But there was 
no help now, and no way out of the danger. 
With one blow the mighty genie laid hiin motion- 
less on the ground and flung his body in among 
the bushes. At once the great darkness vanished 
from the haunted wood and all was as before. 

It was upon the next morning that Wassersein, 


TWO BBOTHEBS. 


305 


ever mindful of his brother, went as usual to the 
cross-roads to learn if he might, from the condi- 
tion of the knife, of his brother’s welfare. 

But lo ! when he reached the tree, he found 
the knife rusty and bloody ; then he knew well 
that Wassermann was dead or dying. This bad 
news made Wassersein very sad, and he would 
neither eat nor drink, until he had started on his 
way to take vengeance on his brother’s murderers. 

At once the young king summoned his animals, 
bade farewell to his bride and hurried along the 
same path that his brother had taken. In time 
he came to the city where his brother had first 
stopped. Here he found the people in a great 
state of excitement and grief. He asked the 
cause of their sorrow and one replied, “ A short 
time ago there came here a youth named Wasser- 
mann ; in feature he was much like yourself, but 
somewhat taller. He slew the great dragon that 
had demanded our princess to be given to it to 
devour. But now for full three days nothing 
has been seen nor heard of this brave youth, 
although men have been sent out in all directions 
in search of him. We fear he has fallen into the 
hands of some wicked magician, perchance a 
friend of the dragon.” 

Wassersein expressed his great sorrow at what 
he heard, but did not say that he was Wasser- 
mann’s brother. 


306 


TWO BBOTHEBS. 


Early next morning Wassersein called his 
animals and went off in search of his brother. 
He soon reached the wood and searched about 
all day without success. Toward evening there 
-ybe came over the wood a thick dark- 
(Beme- ness and with it a heavy frost 
and fog, so that Wassersein could 
not find his way out of the forest. 
He therefore collected some 
brushwood and kindled a fire, 
that he might keep himself 
and animals warm. Suddenly 
he heard a low, wailing voice, 
saying, “ O-oh, o-oh ! I am freez- 
ing.” Wassersein began to 
look about him, but in the 
dense darkness and fog he 
could see nothing beyond the 
circle of the fire. But his 
animals were restless and snarling as if they 
thought some foe was near. After a short while 
the voice broke forth again, saying, a O-oh, o-oh ! 
I am freezing.” 

When Wassersein looked around the second 
time he saw not far off an old woman, shivering 
with the cold, sitting on a log. Her face was 
hideously ugly and she had the appearance of 
being a witch. Wassersein therefore determined 
to be on his guard while she was near. He, how- 



TWO BROTHERS. 


307 


ever, pitied the old woman and tried to raise her 
from the log to bring her nearer to the fire. But 
she appeared to be much frightened, and said, 
“ 1 dare not go so near to your savage animals.” 
Wassersein replied that they would not hurt her; 
but she would not believe him. 

After some argument the old woman said, 
“Lay this twig across the backs of your ani- 
mals and then I can see whether or not they are 
obedient.” 

Wassersein promised to do as she wished, but 
secretly he threw the twig in the fire, and it was 
burned up. Then the old woman, supposing the 
animals to be under her charm, sprang up quickly 
and became a great genie. Then said she “Your 
brother killed my brother, so now I will take 
vengeance on you, as I have already done upon 
him.” 

Wassersein, however, was not frightened. He 
called his animals, drew his sword and went for- 
ward to meet the genie. Then began a furious 
struggle. But the four were too much for the 
genie, and when she found she had no chance of 
victory she began to beg for her life. 

Then Wassersein replied, “ My first condition 
is, that you release my brother’s animals from 
your charm.” This, after some remonstrance, the 
old woman did. Then Wassersein said, “My 
second condition is, that you immediately restore 


308 


TWO BBOTHEBS. 


my brother to perfect health.” This, too, the 
woman did at length, though with the greatest 
reluctance ; but she saw there was no other 
chance of life. 

And when the old woman had restored his 
brother to life, Wassersein called quickly to the 
six animals, “ Forward, all yt>u animals ; tear her 
in shreds ! ” And at once the six animals fell 
upon the genie and tore her into so many little 
bits that she was scattered over the ground like 
leaves in the fall. 

And immediately the fog and darkness disap- 
peared and all again was quiet in the wood. 

The brothers embraced each other fondly, and 
then returned together with all speed to the 
castle. And on their way they related all their 
adventures to each other. 

At the castle the two brothers were welcomed 
with joy unbounded ; from there, after a brief 
visit, Wassersein returned home to his bride. 
And after that each in his own kingdom reigned 
many happy years. 
























































































































































































































































































































































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